mm 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 
OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


p- 


POEMS, 


H.      W.      PARKER 


AUBURN: 

JAMES   M.    ALDEN,   67   GENESEE    ST. 

1850. 


ENTIBED,  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1850, 

BY  JAMES   M.  ALDEX, 

In  the  Clerk's  Office  of  the  District  Court  for  the  Northern 
District  of  New  York. 


IKAPP  fc  PECK,  PRIMERS. 
ACBCIW .  H.  I. 


T*- 


HDo  you  condemn  these  verses  I  have  written,  "* 
Because  they  tell  no  story  false  or  true  ! 

What,  though  no  mice  are  captured  by  a  kitten, 
May  it  not  leap  and  play  as  grown  cats  do, 

Till  its  claws  come  ?    Prithee,  for  this  one  time 

Content  thee  with  a  visionary  rhyme. •' 

Proem  to  "  Witch  of  Atlas." 

And  "with  the  fairy  tales  of  science." 

"Locksley  Hall" 


n- 


CONTENTS, 


CREATIONS. 

THE  POETS'  REVEILLE  .  .  .  .  .11 
VISION  OF  SHELLEY'S  DEATH  ....  27 
THE  HCNTER'S  DESTINIES  .  '••**•  •  »  \.'*\  33 
THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE 38 

CITY  AND  COUNTRY 

PART  I. — THE  YOUTHFUL  IMPULSE 

PART  II. — THE  WARNING  DREAM 
A  STUDY         .        .         .  u.  . 

THE  SHADOW          ...... 

A  HAPPY  DAY  ....     r£l.a> 

THE  DEAD- WATCH  -  V 

"  MORE  LIGHT" 


6  CONTENTS. 

SONNETS 

CALIFORNIA    .                  .     k   .        .        .*,  73 

• 

A  REPLY  ^      .        .        .'        .        .74 

To  A  BLONDE        :          f.       ...  75 

A  PICTUKE        ......  76 

Two  PICTURES        .....  77 

AUTUMN  SNOW           .         .         .         .         .  78 

THREE  SPIRITS        .         .         .     f  .  79 

To  No  ONE       .        .        .  .    '...  -    V       •  80 

MT.  HOLYOKE         ."  V  /  '     .         .         .  81 

A  SUNBEAM        *y     •  "  "        •         .82 

LOVE'S  SUNSET       .         .        ,         .         .         .  ' .  83 

LOVE'S  ALCHEMY       ..    ••"  .        .     "  I : '.* '.       '.-  86 

To  A  FLOWER,  ETC.         ,^>  'v'     ;."       i     ^  ,v  100 

THE  NEW  PLANET.—  A  SONG     v  "V-              *'  103 

• 

THE  REMOVAL       .        .     '   ."     ,  fc   : "\.       .  107 

THE  ELM-SYLPH Ill 

THE  ICEBERG         •         .         .                  .         .  119 

AURORA  .        .        .     -4  .   .  K -* '       .        .         .  122 

WELL'S  FALLS       .  -. 125 

CONDOLENCE      .......  127 

THE  CiTr  OP  THE  DEAD         ...»  129 

OMENS      .        .        ,.        .        ..      ..js-C       *  132 

"  OH,  IP  'TIS  WISDOM,"  ETC,    .  133 


CONTENTS.  7 

IMITATIONS. 

FLORALIE        .          .        .                       4  .        .  137 

THE  LONE  ISLAND         .....  141 

TAGHCANIC  FALLS      .....*  144 

PROSE-POEMS. 

NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE     .         :  153 

AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD       .         .                  .  169 

TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP         .         .         .         *  192 

VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT       ....  202 

LEGEND  OF  THE  LONE  ISLAND    ....  219 

MOULTING  OF  MIND 224 

THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT         *                 .  231 


Please,  with  a  pencil. 


On  page  44,  line  llth,  after  "borrow"  insert  "»  beauty." 

''      "      51,     "    6th,  after  "  gave'5  insert  ••  me." 

"      "      87,    last  line,  after  "am"  insert  "I.1' 

<•      "    130,   line  16th,  for  "thro1  the  trees"  write  "in  the  learei." 

"      "    144,     "    llth,  after  "And  if  insert  "is." 

NOTE. — The  other  few  errors  will  correct  themselves;  the  excuse  for  them 
is,  the  book  was  required  to  be  printed  in  the  space  of  three  weeks,  and  the 
author  could  not  uee  a  'revised  proof.'  At  the  hint  of  another,  it  may  be 
here  intimated  that  the  poem  "  More  Light "  is  a  pleasantry,  suggested  by 
an  engraving ;  and  it  has  no  more  resemblance  in  its  aim  than  in  its  exe 
cution,  to  the  well-known  poem  "Excelsior.''  It  may  b.-j  added,  also,  that 
the  ''Vision  of  Shelley's  Death''  coincides  with  the  opinion,  now  prevail 
ing,  that  Shelley  was  a  literal  monomaniac  on  the  subject  of  Christianity. 


CREATIONS. 


THE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 


RAP  !  rap  !  at  the  tapping  of  the  drum, 
What  a  host  of  living  poets  come  ! 
From  the  north  and  south,  the  east  and  west, " 
In  a  thousand  sorts  of  armor  drest, 
Mounted  and  afoot,  in  twos  and  threes, 
In  battalions,  troops  and  companies, 
On  they  press,  an  endless  motley  train, 
To  the  authors'  boundless  battle-plain. 
Every  month  now  brings  its  rhyming  score  ; 
Let  them  come  ! — the  merrier  the  more ; 
Let  them  form  in  line  wherever  found,  ^ 
Roll  the  drum  and  let  the  trumpet  sound  !j 


12  THE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

Long  enough  the  world  has  seen  a  race 
Sitting  on  the  heights  of  power  and  place, 
Filling  all  the  valleys  with  a  throng 
That,  in  pride  of  reason,  scorn  the  pong 
Flowing  from  the  heart  in  tones  subdued, 
Like  the  murmurs  of  a  solitude. 
They  are  prosy  men  of  common  sense, 
Who  have  ears  alone  for  jingling  pence ; 
But  their  vaunted  rule  shall  come  to  naught, 
At  the  touch  of  words — the  flash  of  thought. 
What  is  false  and  foul  to  them  is  due  ; 
We  will  throne  the  Beautiful  and  True ; 
We  will  vote  them  down,  and  laugh  them  down, 
Seize  the  power  and  gold,  and  wear  the  crown. 
When  the  swarming  poets  have  their  way, 
Then  the  world  will  see  a  merry  day  1 

Beat !  beat !  at  the  greeting  of  the  d^rum, 
Let  the  countless  tuneful  army  come  ! 
Fight  with  iron  hymns  like  Cromwell's  host ; 
At  your  paper,  you  are  at  your  post ; 
Every  poet-knight  may  have  his  page  ; 
Children-poets  have  their  cutting  edge ; 


THE   POITS'  BETE1LLB. 

Pour  around  your  volumes,  dense  and  hot- — 
Clouds  of  smoke,  if  you  are  out  of  shot ; 
Fire  away,  like  Indians,  under  cover, 
"While  around  the  enemy  you  hover. 
Printers  and  the  Press  will  furnish  all — 
'  Shooting-stick,'  and  '  carriage,'  and  a  '  ball,' 
1  Cannon,'  '  pica '  for  your  pikes  and  staves, 
And  a  '  coffin '  for  your  soldier-graves. 

Rouse,  then  !  form  in  '  column'  and  in  '  line,' 
All  who  have  the  faculty  divine. 
Turn  !  turn !  still  wo  beat  the  poets'  drum, 
Still  we  welcome  you — there  yet  is  room  ! 
With  such  weapons  as  you  have  at  hand, 
For  your  rights  and  writings  bravely  stand. 
Choose  your  martial  music  at  your  pleasure- 
Alexandrine  or  heroic  measure ; 
Tribrachs  for  your  pibrochs  sound  at  will ; 
Ana-paest  may  find  a  lover  still ; 
Blank  verse  is  not  always  blank  of  shot, 
And  a  ballad  adds  a  ball,  I  wot. 
So  with  poetry  for  musketry, 
Pasquinade  a  cannonade  shall  be, 
And  a  sentry,  brave  as  Saucho  Panza, 


14  TIIE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

Shout  hia  "  Stand,  sir  !  "  in  his  halting  stanza. 

Courage,  hearts  !  and  stoutly  march  along, 
Strong  in  numbers,  in  our  leaders  strong — 
Leaders  ? — look  you,  while  I  just  rehearse 
Some  of  these  in  quick  and  jingling  verse — 
Not  in  order  of  their  rightful  place, 
But  as  in  the  crowd  we  catch  a  face. 

First,  an  honored  chief,  behold  a  Bryant, 
Who,  without  "  a  stretching,"  is  a  giant, 
Not  with  knotty  club  and  lion's  hide, 
But,  a  polished  sabre  by  his  side, 
And  in  Yankee  regimentals  dight, 
He  will  calmly  rule  the  stormy  fight. 

Next,  the  poet  of  '  Evangel  iae,' 

In  an  olden  suit  of  armor,  clean 

And  so  burnished  that  you  see  your  face, 

Ay,  and  heart,  as  clear  as  in  a  glass. 

Braver  knight,  more  gallant,  pure  and  true, 

Never  to  the  shock  of  battle  flew. 

Willis,  yonder,  on  a  subtle  pacer 


THE  POETS'   REVEILLE. 

Glides  along  as  fast  as  any  racer. 
On  his  shield  is  many  a  bright  device  ; 
Feathers  of  the  Bird  of  Paradise 
Flaunt  adown  his  helmet  for  a  plume. 
Gayest  in  the  field  and  drawing-room, 
He  has  won  and  he  can  wield  in  war 
That  same  fabled  Eastern  scimitar 
Magic-tempered,  and  of  edge  so  keen, 
It  will  cleave  a  foe,  unfelt,  unseen  ! 
General  Morris  with  him,  side  by  side, 
Sworn  to  die  together,  forth  they  ride — 
Morris  who  our  hearts  can  well  inspire 
With  his  jeweled  sword  and  silver  lyre. 

Now,  make  room  for  Lowell — room  for  three, 

For,  with  power  to  change  his  nature,  he 

Can  assume  the  droll  militia-man, 

Or  can  dash — a  trooper  in  the  van, 

Charging  on  the  critics  at  a  canter ; 

Or  can  lay  aside  his  stinging  banter, 

"  Turn  and  wind  a  fiery  Pegasus," 

And,  astride  that  courser  fabulous, 

Mount  the  skies  and,  scorning  spur  or  whip, 

"  Witch  the  world  with  noble  horsemanship." 


16  THE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

Dana,  once,  upon  a  spirit-horse, 
Followed  all  the  windings  of  Remorse  ; 
Now  he  stands  apart,  a  hero  tall, 
"With  a  word  of  sympathy  for  all 
Who  are  warring  with  a  jarring  life, 
And  are  weary  of  its  wasting  strife. 

Surgeon  of  the  poet-army — Holmes 
Next  is  here  to  fire  his  squibs  and  bombs  ; 
Skilled  in  all  explosive  chemistry, 
He  can  "  slay  with  laughter,"  healthy  glee, 
Double-shots  his  guns,  and,  sure  to  hit, 
Plays  away  a  battery  of  wit. 

Saxe,  too,  comes  with  sacks  of  powder-puns- 
Ammunition  for  a  hundred  guns ; 
And  he  wields  with  ease  his  satire's  sword, 
Every  stroke  a  smoothly  cutting  word. 

Unlike  them,  bold  Whittier  mounts  a  steed, 
All  the  wing'd  artillery  to  lead, 
And  with  vollies  of  his  red-hot  rain, 
Like  a  whirlwind  sweeps  the  battle-plain. 


THE   POETS     REVEILLE. 

Halleck  garnered  glory  with  the  Greeks ; 
Strong  his  arm  and  weather-worn  his  cheeks ; 
And  his  hand  is  trained  alike  to  throw 
Humor's  torch,  or  strike  the  lyric  blow. 

Street,  too,  takes  the  war-path — knows  the  trail ; 
His  foot,  glance  and  arrow  never  fail; 
With  an  eagle  eye  and  panther's  tread, 
Forest,  lake  and  mountain  he  will  thread, 
Leading,  cheering  us  with  whoop  and  dance 
Thro'  the  mazes  of  a  wild  romance. 

Hoffman  is  no  less  a  hunter  true ; 
Woodland  glades  he  loves,  and  waters  blue ; 
Is  at  home  with  rifle,  rod  and  oar, 
Knows  the  Indian's  guile  and  fairy  lore, 
And  the  camp-fire's  hour  he  wings  along 
With  a  legend  or  a  sparkling  song. 

Tuckennan,  the  perfect  gentleman, 
Kepresents  the  court  of  "  good  Queen  Anne ; " 
Far  too  few  the  scions  of  his  race — 
Men  in  velvet  cloaks  and  golden  lace, 


18  THE  POETS'  REVEILLK. 

Who  can  use  their  swords  with  skill  and  grace. 

Bayard  Taylor,  with  his  Alpine  staff, 
Better  loves  the  higher  air  to  quaff, 
Climbs  the  mountain's  dizziest  peak,  to  light 
Beacons  that  shall  redden  on  the  night, 
Cheer  the  longing  spirit  like  a  star, 
And  awake  the  world  to  noble  war. 

Emerson,  the  prose-poet,  should  be  here, 
Lending  us  his  Grecian  soul  and  spear ; 
But  he  won't  keep  step,  and  hurries  so, 
He  is  out  of  sightr-^so  let  him  go  ! 

Oh,  one's  drumdom  for  a  muster-roll, 
Just  to  name  each  noble  poet-soul ! 
How  their  very  names  the  drum-head  jars  ! — 
Tragic  Boker,  bright  with  princely  stars ; 
Wallace,  striding  like  a  modern  Mars  ; 
Lord,  not  worse  for  honorable  scars  ; 
Hoyt,  a  David  slinging  polished  spars  ; 
Matthews,  tempered  in  his  valiant  wars; 
Sargent,  with  his  ships  and  hardy  tars ; 
Cutter,  rushing  in  his  lightning  cars; 


THE  POETS    REVEILLE. 

Sprague  who  puffs  his  excellent  "  cigars ;" 
Hirst,  and  other  well-drilled  regulars. 
Field  the  "  Post  of  Honor"  bravely  chooses ; 
Bead  is  champion  of  all  the  Muses  ; 
Bulkley  sings  a  stirring  battle-song ; 
Prentice  rouses,  silent  far  too  long  j 
Hosmer,  with  his  Indian  braves,  is  here, 
And  the  knightly  Simms,  without  a  fear. 

These  and  others,  each  a  truer  man 
Than  the  marshals  of  the  Corsican  ; 
But  what  ragged  multitudes  they  lead- 
Hundreds  to  a  single  blade  or  steed  ; 
Many  noble  youth,  but  what  a  rout 
Follow  with  their  rabble  song  and  shout ! 
Some  with  nothing  but  a  load  of  words  ; 
Some  with  pop-guns,  whistles,  wooden  swords, 
Rocking-horses,  paper  caps  and  drums, 
China-crackers,  rockets,  sugar-plums ; 
And  a  crippled  squadron  limp  behind — 
Falstaff's  men  were  not  more  lame  and  blind. 

Let  them  come  ! — the  halt  shall  leap  to  life, 
And  the  young  shall  strengthen  for  the  strife, 


20  THE  POETS'  REVEILLB. 

And — but  hark  ! — what  mean  the  signal  guns  ?— 
Ah,  the  glorious  troop  of  Amazons ! 

Sigourney,  by  right  of  reverend  years, 
At  their  head — a  saintly  form — appears ; 
Hers  the  gentle  wisdom  to  repress 
Something  of  their  wayward  youth's  excess ; 
Cheer  the  sad,  and  soften  down  the  gay, 
And  with  counsel  calm  to  rule  the  fray. 

Osgood,  joying  in  her  courser's  prance, 
Twines  with  flowers  and  lifts  her  shining  lance  ; 
Never  weary,  full  of  love  and  hope, 
Swifter  than  the  airy  antelope, 
On  she  bounds,  her  song  as  sweetly  clear 
As  the  music  of  a  sinless  sphere. 

Next,  with  visor  down,  is  '  Greenwood  '  Clarke  ; 
Forth  she  rides — a  Joan  bold  of  Arc ; 
Clad  in  ringing  mail  from  head  to  heel, 
Like  her  sword,  her  nerves  are  finest  steel ; 
On  her  mettled  charger  best  at  home, 
Well  she  loves  him  for  his  fire  and  foam, 
Dares  the  battle's  front,  the  stormy  siege, 


THE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

And  to  self  alone  she  lives  in  liege. 

No  less  brave  in  saddle,  strong  in  heart, 
Fanny  Kemble  hurls  the  sonnet's  dart ; 
Loud  she  lifts  a  golden-bugle  voice, 
That  would  make  the  heart  of  Death  rejoice ; 
Shaming  pale  Macbeths  from  craven  fears, 
Many  a  Brutus  with  her  tone  she  cheers. 

But  the  time  would  fail  us,  if  we  told 
Half  the  Beauty  in  the  lists  enrolled  : 
Mowatt,  who,  than  all  her  tragic  mien, 
Acts  in  life  the  better  heroine ; 
Hale,  whose  slender  hands  can  lightly  wield 
"  Iron"  battle-axe'  and  shining  shield ; 
Gould  and  Ellet,  all  whose  thought  contains 
Blood  descended  from  our  patriot  veins. 
Lynch,  the  fearless  Miriam  of  the  band, 
Rains  from  cymbals  music  sweet  and  grand  ; 
And  with  her  exult  the  sister  Careys, 
Bold  as  Judiths,  gentle  as  the  Maries.   . 
Like  a  Milton's  warring  angel,  Eames 
Shows  of  Milton's  genius  milder  gleams ; 


22  THE  POETS'  REVEILLK. 

Welby,  on  her  tameless  prairie  steed, 
Glories  in  her  hair-disheveling  speed  ; 
Fairest  Oakes,  with  holy  hymning  lyre, 
Like  an  angel  wakes  the  golden  wire  ; 
"  Edith  May" — beneath  her  dark  eye's  lash, 
Lightnings  of  a  lofty  spirit  flash ; 
And  the  sweet  Cayuga  warbler — "Alice,," 
With  the  dew  of  feeling  in  her  chalice ; 
Allin,  too,  a  form  that  yet  may  rise, 
With  Minerva's  spear  and  Juno's  eyes. 
These — and  each  a  Magyar  heroine — 
These,  and  all  their  flocking  troops,  are  seen  ; 
Let  us,  with  a  drum-beat  long  and  loud, 
Cheerily  salute  the  lovely  crowd  ! 
Allied  with  so  many  queenly  Powers, 
We  may  shout — •'  The  victory  is  ours  !" 

Sound  !  sound !  at  the  pounding  of  the  drum, 

Let  the  aspirants  of  glory  come  ! 

We  are  strong ;   and  o'er  the  rolling  sea, 

Is  another  banded  company ; 

They  are  strong,  and  subtly  skill'd  to  fight 

For  the  worker's  hope — the  dreamer's  right. 


THE  POE1S    REVEILLE. 

And  what  leaders  !  —  Browning  and  the  Heart 
Linked  with  his  to  share  his  love  and  art  ; 
Jasmin,  Lamartine,  and  Freiligrath, 
And  a  train  that  follow  in  their  path. 
These  and  others  are  by  one  Soul  led— 
He  the  flower  of  chivalry  and  head- 
Arthur  of  our  modern  Faerie-Queen, 
Towering  from  the  host  his  helm  is  seea, 
All  of  gold  ;  and  nets  of  mail  enfold 
(Every  ring  and  scale  of  purest  gold). 
All  his  manly  form  ;  and  straight  his  blows 
Strike  like  lightning  thro'  and  thro'  his  foes  ; 
Sworn  to  beauty,  truth  and  woman,  none* 
Is  so  much  a  host  as  Tennyson- 


Beat  !  beat  !  at  the  booming  of  the 
Let  the  lovers  all  of  beauty,  come  ! 
We  are  strong,  and  silent  with  us  tread 
Viewless  spirits  of  the  laureled  Dead. 
(Lightly,  lightly  touch  the  muffled  drum  !.—- 
Softly,  sadly  let  its  music  hum  !) 
Nay,  look  up  !  look  up  !  the  glowing  throng  , 
With  a  distant  burst  of  angel-song, 
Suddenly  appear  and  fill  the  sky  ! 


24  THE  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

To  our  aid  the  sainted  poets  fly, 
As  with  Sisera  did  fight  the  stars — 
As  the  gods  were  mixed  in  human  wars. 
See  them  ! — rank  on  rank  they  reach  away 
From  the  portals  of  immortal  day, 
With  their  seraph  spears  and  sounding  lyres ; 
Near  at  hand,  they  shine  like  pillared  fires — 
Far  away  they  glitter  in  the  air, 
Bright  as  spangles  in  a  noonday  glare ; 
Still  they  come,  with  lustrous  forms,  and  eyes 
Radiant  with  the  light  of  Paradise. 
Let  us  join  their  grand  triumphant  song 
With  a  hymn  ten  thousand  voices  strong. 
Like  the  light  that  shone  to  Constantino, 
Such  a  glory  is  our  victory's  sign  ; 
And  the  vision  who  can  disbelieve, 
Since  the  dead  in  song  and  presence  live  ? 

Wake  !  wake  !  at  the  shaking  of  the  drum, 
Let  the  young  and  swarming  poets  come  ! 
Lift  your  banners  high  your  heads  above, 
Blazoned  with  the  motto — "  Truth  and  Love." 
By  the  memory  of  the  gifted  dead 
Who  have  died  for  lack  of  love  and  bread ; 


THE   POETS     REVEILLE. 

By  the  social  wrongs  that  sunder  souls  ; 
By  the  mockery  that  on  you  rolls ; 
By  your  hate  of  bigotry  and  pride — 
Forward  !  with  your  instinct  for  a  guide. 
And  aim  high — oh,  leave  the  beaten  track  ; 
Outward  Nature  and  the  Passions  lack 
None  to  picture  every  varied  phase. 
Leave  the  surface  and  the  trodden  ways 
Where  the  gold-dust  all  is  sifted  out, 
And  the  thirsty  sands  are  blown  about ; 
Delve  for  purer  ore  in  Nature's  heart, 
Melt  and  mould  it  with  a  perfect  art — 
Nay,  ascend,  and  conquer  realms  ideal, 
Till  the  vision  heralds  in  the  real — 
Till  the  spirit  triumphs  over  sense, 
Reigning  in  its  own  high  eminence. 

Roll !  roll !  with  the  rolling  of  the  drum, 
Shout  the  harvest  of  your  laurels  home  ! 
Soon  we  will  outnumber  all  the  throng 
That  are  dead  to  beauty,  truth  and  song; 
Soon  the  tide  of  battle  will  have  turned, 
And  the  rights  of  finer  souls  be  earned. 
Then  the  world  will  be  as  we  would  have  it 

2 


26  -nut  POETS'  REVEILLE. 

Then  shall  custom  never  more  enslave  it. 
Thinkers  shall  be  rich,  and  wooden  men 
Hew  the  wood  and  draw  the  water,  then  ! 
Kindred  souls  will  always  find  each  other ; 
All  acknowledge  Nature  as  our  mother  ; 
Truth  to  her  and  self  will  ne'er  be  treason  ; 
Romance  will  be  held  the  truest  Reason  ; 
Visions  will  be  true,  and  fancies,  fact ; 
And  the  world  be  free  in  speech  and  act. 
All  men  shall  be  poets — poet-teachers, 
Poet-farmers,  artists,  merchants,  preachers ; 
Poet-lawyers,  statesmen,  presidents, 
And  poetic  laws  and  governments. 
Roll !  roll  the  thunder  of  the  drum — 
Soon  a  POETOCRACY  will  come. 


VISION  OF  SHELLEY'S  DEATH. 


THE  wind  was  freshening  across  the  bay, 
A  looming  storm  shut  out  the  sultry  day, 
And  wilder  grew  the  distant  billows'  play. 

The  nearer  calm  a  single  sail  beguiled, 
And  at  the  helm,  with  features  fair  and  mild, 
Sat  one  whom  men  have  called  Eternal  Child. 

A  breath — a  breeze — the  tempest  strikes  the  sail ; 
It  fills — it  stoops,  and,  swift  and  free  as  frail, 
It  flies  a  winged  arrow  from  the  gale. 

A  precious  boat ! — may  angels  speed  it  right ! 
The  world,  in  that  thin  shell  and  form  as  slight, 
Has  all  its  hold  upon  a  soul  of  might. 


28  VISION  OF  SHELLEY'S  DEATH. 

He  lay  reclined  in  noonday  dreams  no  more, 
He  gazed  no  longer  at  the  purple  shore, 
Nor  mused  on  roofing  skies  and  ocean's  floor. 

The  wizard  storm  invoked  a  truer  dream — 
Had  kindled  in  his  eye  its  proudest  gleam, 
And  given  his  eagle  soul  a  grander  theme. 

No  sign  of  craven  fear  his  lips  reveal ; 

He  only  feels  the  joy  that  heroes  feel, 

When  lightnings  flash  and  jarring  thunders  peal. 

The  boat  dipt  low  ;  his  foot  was  on  the  helm  ; 
The  deck  a  throne — the  storm  his  genial  realm, 
He  dared  the  powers  that  nature's  king  o'erwhelm. 

The  gentle  eye  that  turned  from  man  away, 
Now  flashed  in  answer  to  the  flashing  spray, 
And  glanced  in  triumph  o'er  the  foaming  bay. 

/ 
And  as  aloft  the  boat  a  moment  hung, 

Then  down  the  plunging  wave  was  forward  flung, 
His  own  wild  song — "  The  Fugitives  " — he  sung  : 


VISION  OF  SHELLEY  S  DEATH. 

Said  he,  "  And  seest  thou,  and  nearest  thou?  " 
Cried  he,  "  And  fearest  thou,  and  fearest  thou? 
A  pilot  bold,  I  trow,  should  follow  now." 


The  sail  was  torn  and  trailing  in  the  sea, 
The  water  flooded  o'er  the  dipping  lee, 
And  clomb  the  mast  in  maddest  revelry. 

It  righted  with  the  liquid  load,  and  fast       f 

Went  down  ;  the  mariners  afloat  were  cast, 

And  louder  roared  and  laughed  the  mocking  blast. 

A  moment,  and  no  trace  of  man  or  spar 
Was  left  to  strew  the  path  that,  near  and  far, 
Is  whirled  in  foam  beneath  the  tempest's  car. 


9 
* 


0  VISION    OF  SHELLEY  S  DEATH. 

A  moment  more,  and  one  pale  form  appeared, 
And  faintly  looked  the  eyes ;  no  storm  careered, 
And  all  the  place  with  mystic  light  was  sphered. 

Around  him  slept  a  circling  space  of  wave  ; 
It  seemed  the  crystal  pavement  of  a  cave, 
And  all  about  he  heard  the  waters  "rave. 

He  saw  them  waving  like  a  silken  tent — 
Beheld  them  fall,  like  rocks  of  beryl  rent, 
And  rage  like  lions  from  a  martyr  pent. 

A  sudden  life  began  to  thrill  his  veins  ; 

A  strange  new  force  his  sinking  weight  sustains, 

Until  he  seems  released  from  mortal  chains. 

He  looked  above — a  glory  floating  down — 
A  dazzling  face  and  form — a  kingly  crown, 
With  blinding  beauty  all  his  senses  drown. 

As  tearful  eyes  may  see  the  light  they  shun,    « 
As  veiling  mists  reveal  the  clear-shaped  sun, 
He  knew  the  crucified,  transfigured  One. 


VISION  OF  SHELLEY'S  DEATH.  31 

In  that  still  pause  of  trembling,  blissful  sight, 
He  woke  as  from  a  wild  and  life-long  night, 
And  through  his  soul  there  crept  a  holy  light. 

A  blot  seemed  fading  from  his  troubled  brain — 

A  doubt  Of  God — a  madness  and  a  pain, 

Till  upward  welled  his  trusting  youth  again  , — 

Till  upward  every  feeling  pure  was  drawn, 
As  nightly  dews  are  claimed  again  at  dawn, 
And  whence  they  came  are  more  gently  gone. 

He  gazed  upon  those  mercy-beaming  eyes, 
Till  recognition  chased  away  surprise, 
And  he  had  faith  from  heaven  and  strength  to  rise- 
To  rise  and  kneel  upon  the  glassy  tide, 
While  down  the  Vision  floated  to  his  side, 
And  stooped  to  hear  what  less  he  said  than  sighed  : — 

"  Oh-  Truth,  Love,  Gentleness  ! — I  wooed  and  won 
Your  essences,  nor  knew  that  ye  are  ONE  ; 
Oh  crowned  Truth,  receive  thine  erring  son  !" 


32  VISION  OF  SHELLEY'S  DEATH. 

A  spirit-touch  was  laid  upon  his  soul ; 

Like  pallid  ashes  from  a  living  coal, 

His  mortal  clay  fell  off  and  downward  stole. 

The  Soul  and  Vision  took  their  upward  flight, 
And  lingering  angels  gathered  up  the  light 
That  lay — a  spell  upon  the  tempest's  might. 

The  gentle  one,  whose  thought  alone  was  wrong- 
The  Eternal  Child  amidst  a  cherub-throng, 
Was  wafted  to  the  Home  of  Love  and  Song. 


THE  HUNTER'S  DESTINIES. 


I. 

NIGHT'S  crescented  and  spangled  dome 
O'erarched  with  love,  and  fed  with  dewy  light, 

A  garden-hid  Virginian  home. 
The  airs  of  summer,  in  their  elfin  flight, 

Stept  lightly  on  the  vine-rose  leaves 
That  made  a  low  veranda's  damask  woof, 

And  crept  in  wreaths  above  the  eaves, 
And  fell  in  shade  along  a  silvered  roof. 

Within,  the  moonlight  and  the  bloom, 
Thro'  open  lattices  that  reached  the  ground — 

Faint  lights  and  sweets — relieved  the  gloom  ; 
And  both  were  blended  with  as  faint  a  sound 

That  echoed  from  a  festal  hall, 
That  chirruped  from  the  crickets  in  the  earth, 

2* 


34  THE  HUNTER'S  DESTINIES. 

And  stole  from  maize-fields  green  and  tall — 
From  tinkling  tambourine,  and  song  and  mirth. 

Without — a  garden  thro'  the  open  door  ; 
Within — a  nodding  nurse  and  sleeping  child 

That  lay  upon  the  figured  floor, 
Where  flowers  of  moonlight  in  the  darkness  smiled. 

In  slumber  mild, 

Its  dainty  face  with  dream-drops  beaded  o'er, 
Reposed  THE  CHILD. 


II. 

The  night  wore  on ;  the  nurse  had  gone 
To  find  the  far-off  music  thro'. the  trees ; 

Dark  lines  of  level  cloud  were  drawn 
Across  the  sinking  moon  ;  and  with  the  breeze 

There  came  a  rising,  rushing  sound — 
Wild  voices  came,  but  not  of  midnight  brawl  j 

And  thro'  the  casements,  and  around 
Where  fading  moonbeams  crept  from  floor  to  wall, 

Dim  forms  were  gliding  in  the  room, 
Like  lights  in  darkness,  shadows  in  the  light ; 

They  were  the  shapes  of  Hope  and  Doom. 
And  first,  with  features  fevered  with  delight, 


THE  HUNTER'S  DESTINIES.  35 

And  eyes  with  dreamy  brilliance  filled, 
Young  Romance  breathed  a  tale  of  life  and  love 

That  thro'  the  infant's  spirit  thrilled. 
Next,  bold  Adventure  came  and  bent  above 

The  couch  ;  his  clarion-voice  was  heard ; 
He    shouted,   laughed  and   kissed  the   slumbering 

child, 

And  passed.     The  fairest  and  the  third 
That  came  and  knelt,  was  Freedom,  glad  and  wild. 

By  dreams  beguiled, 

Its  dimpled  cheeks  with  sleeping  laughter  stir'd, 
Still  slept  the  child. 


III. 

A  moment,  silence  reigned  again  ; 

And  then  a  magic  music  charmed  the  air, 
And  thro'  the  door  a  joyous  train 

Flew  in,  with  cymbal  clash  and  torches'  flare- 
Mad  Frolic,  Sport  and  dancing  Joy, 

Delirious  Pleasure,  License,  lavish  Wealth, 
Loose  Beauty  with  her  wanton  Boy, 

And  Revel  pale,  in  hand  with  rosy  Health. 
They  chased  about — a  merry  rout — 


36  THE  HUNTER'S  DESTINIES. 

And  kissed  the  child,  and  wet  its  lips  with  wine — 

Then,  with  a  shout,  they  all  flew  out. 
The  moon  had  touched  the  hills,  in  its  decline, 

And  shriller  sang  the  stormy  air. 
A  spectral  form  stole  in — another  came, 

And  then  a  third,  with  haggard  hair, 
And  hollow  cheeks,  and  glaring  eyes  of  flame — 

Mad  Hazard,  crazed  with  golden  dreams, 
Dark  Murder  with  a  dagger  'neath  his  cloak, 

The  lip  of  Hate  that  still  blasphemes, 
Foul  Lust  and  Wrong ;  they  stooped — the  words 
they  spoke 

Its  slumbers  broke, 

And  with  a  fear-flushed  face  and  piercing  screams, 
The  child  awoke. 


IV. 

The  years  flew  swiftly  by  ;  the  child 
Had  grown  a  brawny  man,  and  wandered  far — • 

A  hunter  in   the  western  wild — 
A  hero-name  beneath  the  evening  star. 

Beside  his  nightly  fire,  he  slept ; 
It  shone  on  gleaming  gun  and  fringed  dress, 


THE  HUNTER'S  DESTINIES.  37 

And  flamed  before  the  wind  that  swept 
Thro'  roaring  hills  and  groaning  wilderness. 

In  pauses  of  the  gusty  storm, 
The  hoot  and  howl  and  snarl  of  tameless  things 

"Were  heard,  and  here  and  there  a  form 
Stole  out  from  gloom,  or  passed  on  rushing  wings ; 

Revenge  came  near,  but  stayed  his  knife, 
Repelled  by  long  accustomed,  savage  fear ; 

And  hideous  shapes  of  spirit-life 
Danced  round  the  fire  with  demon  laugh  and  leer ; 

And  all  the  forms  that  gathered  round 
His  cradle,  came  again  to  bless  and  ban ; 

And  ghostly  victims  on  him  frowned, 
Or  stooped  from  air  his  fated  face  to  scan. 

With  features  wan, 

His  weary  senses  drowned  in  sleep  profound, 
Reposed  THE  MAN. 


THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE. 


I  stood  within  a  spacious  room 

Where  many  busy  weavers  were, 
And  each  one  played  a  lofty  loom, 

With  ceaseless  and  with  noisy  stir ; 
Warp  and  roller,  spools  and  reels — 

It  was  a  mazy  scene  to  view, 
While  slow  revolved  the  groaning  wheels, 

And  fast  the  clashing  shuttles  flew. 

Unnumbered  threads  of  brilliant  dyes, 
From  beam  to  beam  all  closely  drawn, 

Seemed  dipt  in  hues  of  sunset  skies, 
Or  steeped  in  tints  of  rosy  dawn, — 

Or  as  a  thousand  rainbows  bright 
Had  been  unraveled,  ray  by  ray, 


THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE. 

And  each  prismatic  beam  of  light 
Inwoven  with  the  fabric  lay. 

Quick — quick  the  clicking  shuttles  flew, 

And  slowly  up  the  web  was  rolled, 
Sprinkled  with  purple,  red  and  blue, 

And  strewed  with  stars  of  yellow  gold  ; 
The  quaint  device  came  forth  so  true, 

It  seemed  a  work  of  magic  power, 
As  if  by  force  of  Nature  grew 

Each  imaged  leaf  and  figured  flower  ! 

I  sat  within  a  silent  room, 

While  evening  shadows  deepened  round, 
And  thought  that  life  is  like  a  loom 

With  many-colored  tissues  wound, — 
Our  souls  the  warp,  and  thought  a  thread 

That,  since  our  being  first  began, 
Backward  and  forth  has  ever  sped, 

Shot  by  the  busy  weaver — man  ! 

And  all  events  of  changing  years 

That  lend  their  colors  to  our  life, 
Though  oft  their  memory  disappears 


40  THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE. 

Amid  our  pleasures  and  our  strife, 
Are  added  fibres  to  the  warp, 

And  here  and  there  they  will  be  seen, 
Dyed  deep  in  joy  or  sorrows  sharp — 

For  we  are  all  that  we  have  been  . 

The  loves  and  hopes  of  youthful  hours, 

Though  buried  in  oblivion  deep, 
Like  hidden  threads  in  woven  flowers 

Upon  the  web  will  start  from  sleep. 
And  one  loved  face  we  sometimes  find 

Pictured  there,  with  memories  rife, — 
A  part  of  that  mysterious  mind 

Which  forms  the  endless  warp  of  life. 

Still  hour  by  hour  the  tissue  grows, 

(MEMORY  is  its  well  known  name,) 
Stained  bright  with  joys  or  dark  with  woes, 

The  pattern  never  twice  the  same  ! 
For  its  confused  and  mingled  gleams 

Display  so  little  care  or  plan, 
In  heedless  sport  the  shuttle  seems 

Thrown  by  the  maddened  weaver — man  ! 


THE  LOOM  OP  LIFjB.  41 

And  if  our  conscious  waking  thought 

"Weaves  out  so  few  and  worthless  ends, 
Much  more  a  tangled  woof  is  wrought 

When  dream  with  dream  commingling  blends  ; 
The  toilsome  scenes  of  weary  days, 

By  night  lived  o'er,  at  morn  we  see 
Made  monstrous  in  a  thousand  ways, 

Like  fabled  shapes  on  tapestry. 

And  as  the  weaver's  varied  braid, 

When  turned,  a  double  wonder  shows — 
The  lights  all  changed  to  sombre  shade, 

While  all  the  dim  then  warmly  glows  ; 
So,  many  scenes  we  think  most  bright, 

And  many  deemed  most  dark  and  cold, 
Will  seem  inverted  to  our  sight, 

When  we  our  future  life  behold  ! 

For  thought  ends  not — it  reaches  on 
Thro'  every  change  of  world  or  clime, 

While  of  itself  will  ever  run 

The  restless  flying  shuttle — time  ! 


42  THE  LOOM  OF  LIFE. 

t  And  when  the  deep-imprinted  soul 

Shall  burst  the  chambers  of  the  tomb, 
Eternity  will  forth  unroll 

The  work  of  this  our  wondrous  loom ! 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY. 


PART  I. THE  YOUTHFUL  IMPULSE. 

AWAY  to  th(f  city  ! — this  rural  repose, 

With  its  slumberous  sounds  and  motionless  sights, 
To  the  fiery  spirit  a  weariness  grows, 

And  tires  with  its  ever-returning  delights. 

A  pageant  of  splendor  that  never  is  past, 

Though  fair  as  a  sunset,  is  familiar  and  mean  ; 

And  the  glories  of  Nature  are  common  at  last, 
If  always  before  us  and  never  unseen. 

Her  use  is  to  quicken  to  healthier  life, 
And  freshen  the  spirit  when  weary  of  toil ; 

We  are  born  to  go  forth  and  to  mingle  in  strife, 
And  not  be  rooted  like  trees  in  the  soil. 


44  CITY  AM)  COUNTRY. 

Her  use  is  to  feather  the  arrows  of  thought, 
And  wing  with  an  image  the  powerful  word, 

When  crowds  by  the  tongue  into  passion  are  wrought, 
Or  the  world,  by  the  pen  or  the  pencil,  is  stirred. 

She  hints  at  a  spiritual  beauty  and  grace, 
That  soften  the  soul  in  activity  strong ; 

But  the  flashes  of  glory  that  play  on  her  face, 
Are  gone,  if  we  gaze  at  the  vision  too  long. 

And  why  should  we  treasure  the  symbols  of  sense, 
If  never  to  use  them  in  battling  with  mind  ? 

^^f    "         "^"^^^  "   / 

And  why  should  we  borrow^rom  thence,    ^  ^ 
If  we  gather  no  strength  in  the  strife  of  mankind  ? 

True,   the  woods  must  be  fell'd,  the   fields  must    be 
reapt, 

But  leave  it  to  those  who  are  hardened  with  toil — 
Whose  souls  in  the  life  of  the  senses  have  slept, 

Until  they  have  lapsed  into  parts  of  the  soil. 

And  here  every  sight,  every  sound  tends  to  sleep  : 

The  mind  is  belittled,  though  the  body  may  grow  ; 
The  footsteps  of  progress  but  lazily  creep, 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY.  45 

And  the  seasons,  the  men   and   their  passions  are 
slow. 

The  world  passes  silently  by,  like  a  dream, 

And  only  its  lingering  echo  is  here, 
A  trance  is  on  forest  and  meadow  and  stream, 

An  hour  is  a  day,  and  a  day  is  a  year. 

A  neighborhood  quarrel  becomes  an  event 
As  great  as  an  era  in  triumphs  of  mind  ; 

And  the  breath  of  the  people  in  gossip  is  spent, 

And  their  heads  are  as  empty  of  thought  as  the  wind. 

Ah,  the  I  ndian  has  passed  like  a  shadow  away, 
But  how  are  his  conquerors  better  than  he  ? 

We  witness  a  race  not  so  manly  to-day, 

And  as  savage  in  kind,  if  refined  in  degree. 

Away  to  the  city  ! — for  that  is  the  heart 

Where  the  life  of  the  world  with  a  glow  and  a  blow 
Is  beating  ;  but  this  is  the  cold  distant  part 

Where  circles  the  blood  with  a  languishing  flow. 

Away  to  the  city  ! — the  country's  the  bound 


46  CITY  AND  COUNTRY. 

Where  the  surface  with  scarcely  a  ripple  is  curl'd  ; 
But  the  city's  the  centre  where  round  and  still  round 
The  maelstrom  of  life  is  unceasingly  whirl'd. 

Oh,  better  to  sink  in  the  ocean's  abyss, 

Though  monsters  of  terror  inhabit  its  gloom, 

Than  to  swim  in  so  shallow  a  water  as  this ; 
For  action,  I  cry — give  me  room  ! — give  me  room ! 

In  the  din  of  the  mart,  in  the  roar  of  its  wheels, 
A  thunder  is  lent  to  the  current  of  time  ; 

Ah,  who  in  the  silence  of  solitude  feels 
That  every  moment  of  life  is  sublime  ? 

And  there  the  titanic  ideas  of  the  hour 

Drop  plump  in  the  billowy  ocean  of  thought, 

While  here  they  but  tremble  with  lessening   power, 
Like  wavelets  from  tropical  hurricanes  caught. 

And  there  all  events  are  pronounced  on  at  once 
By  those  who  possess  the  infallible  key, 

While  here  the  Sir  Oracle,  always  a  dunce, 
Is  echoed  by  dunces  of  lower  degree. 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY.  4/ 

And  there  are  collected  the  spirits  of  might, 
The  gifted  and  wise,  whose  opinions  are  law  ; 

And  there  is  refinement  of  life  at  the  height, 

And  like  to  its  like  from  the  crowd  may  withdraw. 

And  there,  in  an  atmosphere  glowing  with  Art, 
Will  I  feast  upon  Beauty,  and  win  me  a  name  ; 

The  memory  of  Nature,  embalmed  in  the  heart, 
From  my  pen  and  my  pencil  shall  spring  into  fame. 

And  life  is  but  short ;  let  me  live  while  I  live 
An  age  in  a  day,  not  a  day  in  an  age ; 

Let  me  quaff  to  the  lees  what  the  earth  has  to  give, 
And  in  peace  I  will  pass  from  its  shadowy  stage. 


PART  II. THE  WARNING  DREAM. 

FAREWELL,  mad  city  ! — welcome,  oh  my  country  home  ! 

As  crawls  the  dying  lion  to  his  silent  cave, 
So  with    a    bleeding    heart  and  wasted __  strength,  I 
come — 

To  thee  I  come  to  ask  for  rest,  to  find  a  grave. 


48  CITY  AND  COUNTRY. 

Forgive  my  heated  words,  my  early  friends  ard  true — 
Ye  trees  and  flowers  and  blooming  women,  noble  men  ! 

With  you  my  youthful  roots,  of  feeling  freshly  grew, 
And  there  I  long  to  plant  my  withered  soul  again. 

Perhaps  beneath  your  dewy  skies  it  may  revive, 

Some  autumn  buds,  some  late  and  pleasant  fruit  may 
yield ; 

But  never  can  it  gladly  wave  and  greenly  thrive 
As  then  before  I  tore  it  from  its  native  field. 

Oh  mad  ambition,  ever  burning  higher  and  higher  ! 

The  soul  that  lusts  for  fame  and  earthly  excellence, 
Is  doomed  in  restless  flame  forever  to  aspire, 

Until  itself  consumed  in  quenchless  heat  intense. 

• 
I  had  my  wish — the  smile  of  all  the  Arts  I  wooed  ; 

I  clomb  the  dizzy  steep  of  thought,  where  I  could  hail 
Still  higher  peaks  that  mocked   my  steps,  the  while   I 
stood 

A  better  mark  for  envy's  arrows  to  assail. 

If  in  the  honest  rustic's  less  development 

There  is  a  lack  of  thought,  of  ways  and  speech  refined, 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY.  49 

Ah,  what  are  more  developed  men,  in  cities  pent, 
But  men  the  more  in  numbers  and  the  more  in  kind. 

If  wandering,  wayside  insects  sting,  how  much  the  less 
Shall  we  be  poisoned  in  a  swarm  of  angry  bees? 

If  lowly  weeds  may  wound  us  in  the  wilderness, 
How  much  the  better  is  a  park  of  upas-trees  ? 

Away,  false  city,  with  thy  curses  and  acclaims ! 

Where  men^their  hearts  for  gold  and   power  and 

splendor  pawn, 
Where  all  the  finer  sentiments  are  empty  names, 

Repeated  all  the  more  because  the  soul  is  gone  ; 

Where  gilded  walls  and  faces  cover  sin  and  guile, 
And  grief  and  joy  and  love  are  made  a  cunning  art, 

And  woman's  lip  is  tutored  to  a  winning  smile, 
Though  sorrow,  apathy  or  hate  be  in  her  heart ; 

Where  artists  make  a  trick  and  pander  of  their  skill, 
And  starving  authors  dip  their  pens  in  pride  and  gall, 

Nor  have  the  breadth  of  soul  to  stand  apart,  until 
They  see  and  feel  the  truth  and  power  in  each  and  all ; 

3 


50  CITY  AND  COUNTRY. 

Where  walking  memories  repeat  their  parrot  part, 
And  say  you  thieve  from  books  unread  or  long  forgot, 

And  charge  each  living  poet  with  a  want  of  heart, 
And  grudge  the  world  each  shilling's  worth  of  music- 
thought  ; 

Where  social  lies  are  common  coin,  and  men  are  cast 

In  none  of  Nature's,  but  convention's  narrow  moulds, 
And  every  free  and  generous  impulse  dies  at  last, 

Its  life  crushed  out  in  shining  custom's  serpent  folds ; 

• 

Where  all  things,  toil  and  pleasure,  seem  a  tinsel  show, 
As  fair  and  false  and  fleeting  as  the  summer  clouds, 

And  pallid  men  like  trooping  shadows  come  and  go — 
A  restless  crowd  of  ghosts  that  walk  in  Fashion's 
shrouds. 

Oh  give  me  back  my  country  home  ! — no  rural  town 
With  something  like  the  polish  of  the  urban  man, 

Without  the  culture  that  divides  him  from  the  clown — 
A  mermaid  mixture  most  adverse  to  nature's  plan ; 

But  give  me  ba?k  our  yeomen  souls  ! — I  choose  no  more 
The  guinea  stamp  without  the  golden  heart  of  Toil ; 


CITY  AND  COUNTRY.  51 

A  later  wisdom  is  to  love  our  nation's  ore — 

Those  noblest  men — the  New  World  tillers  of  the  soil. 

And  give  me  back  the  face  of  Nature,  fair  and  true, 
Its  stormy  frowns,  its  raining  tears  and  sunny  laugh, 

The  world  of  clouds,  the  world  of  trees  and  waters  blue, 
That  gave,  half  my  being  and  received  a  half. 

x""""^ 

Oh  mother  Earth,  upon  thy  bosom  let  me  lean, 

And  there  rejoice  and  weep,  behold,  admire,  revere  ; 

My  words  were  false,  that  thou  canst  grow  ' '  familiar — 

mean ;" 
Who  sees  aright  will  find  thee  ever  new  and  dear. 

Thy  sun  burns  heavenlier,  thy  skies  grow  high  and  wide, 
A  lovelier  lesson  is  imprinted  on  the  flower, 

A  deeper  meaning  murmurs  in  the  river's  tide, 

And  grander  thoughts  awaken  in  the  tempest's  hour. 

To  thee  I  come  for  peace,  still  peace,  and  rest,  sweet  rest ; 

The  hills  and  winds  shall  give  a  vigor  to  my  tread, 
The   fragrant  cedars  spread   their  hands  to   speak   me 
blest, 

The  stars  distill  a  healing  beauty  on  my  head,— 


52  CITY  AND  COUNTRY. 

The  lake  return  me  thought  for  thought,  and  smile  for 
smile, 

And,  in  its  nightly  dash,  repeat  "  Eternity  !" — 
Till  Evil  to  all  Beauty  I  shall  reconcile, 

And  all  that  is,  to  all  the  better  world  to  be. 


A  STUDY. 


That  matchless  brow ! — 
So  strangely  fair,  so  wide  and  lifted,  Jane, 
What  can  its  earnest  pleading  look  explain  ? 

What  seekest  thou  ? 

That  sad  sweet  brow  ! 

Does  it  thy  childhood's  early  grief  retain  ? 
Is  that  bereavement  traced  forever,  Jane, 

Upon  its  snow  ? 

That  patient  brow  ! 

Hast  thou  of  evil  fortune  to  complain  ? 
Thy  life  has  ever  been  as  sunny,  Jane, 

As  it  is  now. 


54  A  STUDY. 

That  prayerful  brow  ! 
A  prayer  it  alway  must  express  or  feign  ; 
Therefore  in  guileless  youth,  thy  Maker,  Jane, 

Remember  now. 

That  saintly  brow ! 

Its  marble  hue  and  sculptured  beauty,  Jane, 
Should  be  a  shrine  where  worshipers  profane 

May  never  bow. 


THE  SHADOW. 


A  moon  ascending,  full  and  small, 

A  lone  and  snowy  road  j 
And,  here  and  there,  a  wildwood  tall, 

With  crinkled  antlers  broad. 

A  lone,  dark  figure  moving  by- 
Its  shadow  goes  before ; 

The  figure  and  the  shadow  fly 
As  on  a  silver  floor. 

The  sky  is  blue,  the  trees  are  black, 
And  white  the  sheeted  ground  ; 

And,  now  and  then,  the  form  looks  back, 
Or  stealthily  around. 


56  THE  SHADOW. 

But  whether  from  suspected  harm, 

He  hurries  on  his  way, 
Or  if  to  keep  his  chill  blood  warm, 

I  know  not  which  to  say. 

He  hastens  on  his  way,  and  still 
His  shadow  goes  before  ; 

And  now,  to  nerve  his  fickle  will, 
His  heart  he  will  outpour  : 

"  Ha !  ha  !  I  wander  all  alone, 
In  all  the  wide  world  drear, 

And  nothing  can  I  call  my  own 
But  this  my  shadow  here. 

The  world  has  said  that  I  am  mad, 
Because  I  love  my  moods, 

And  speak  in  rhyme  when  I  am  sad, 
Or  wander  in  the  woods. 

Ha !  Ha  !  I  thank  thee,  gentle  moon, 
For  this  my  shadow  here  ; 

It  is  a  friend — a  madman's  boon, 
And  chides  my  foolish  tear. 


THE  SHADOW. 

It  walks — it  runs — it  leaps  along, 

Yet  keeps  so  kindly  near  ; 
And,  if  it  had  a  voice,  a  song 

'Twould  carol  in  my  ear. 

It  goes  before,  and,  if  I  turn, 

Will  follow  me  behind — 
A  truant  hiding  from  the  moon — 

The  moon  our  mother  kind. 

Now  slow  and  dark  it  glides  along, 

And  will  be  moving  near, 
As  if  it  were  a  thought  of  wrong — 

A  thing  to  hate  and  fear. 

Oh,  leave  me,  Shadow,  grim  and  black, 

Oh,  leave  me  to  myself ! 
And  haunt  no  more  my  lonely  track, 

Thou  shapeless  demon-elf. 

Away  !    away  !   blot  not  the  light, 
Thou  dark,  forerunning  Doom  ; 

Oh,  hide  it  moon — oh,  come  thou,  night, 
And  drown  it  in  thy  gloom  ! 

3* 


THE  SHADOW. 

But  see  !  its  arms  it  gaily  flings  ; 

My  merry  dwarf  it  is, 
And  I,  the  merriest  of  kings, 

Will  hold  my  revelries. 

And  I  will  stop  and  sit  me  down  ; 

This  drift  shall  be  my  throne  ; 
The  dazzling  frost  shall  be  my  crown, 

My  realm  the  wild-wood  lone. 

Ho  !   ho  !   my  Shadow,  bring  me  wine, 

For  I  am  weary  now, 
And  thou  shalt  be  my  harlequin, 

And  dance  upon  the  snow. 

Set  forth  the  feast';  the  minstrels  bring ; 

Let  clouds  of  music  roll ; 
Let  star-eyed  Beauty  smile  and  sing, 

Or  wreathe  the  brimming  bowl. 

They  come  ! — fair  forms  begin  to  float 

Transparent  to  the  moon  ; 
Soft  airs  swell  near — now  die  remote— 

A  glory  bursts  like  noon  ! 


THE  SHADOW.  59 

Come  near,  more  near,  ye  loving  eyes ; 

Gaze  on  me  ere  we  part ; 
I  cannot  clasp  you — cannot  rise — 

The  ice  is  on  my  heart. 

Oh  stars,  no  more  the  eyes  ye  seemed ; 

Oh  harps — the  wind's  shrill  cry  j 
Oh  forms — the  clouds ;  I  have  but  dreamed, 

And,  dreaming,  waked  to  die  !" 

He  said,  and  clouds  began  to  loom 

Above  the  darkened  wood ; 
The  Shadow  melted  in  the  gloom — 

A  drop  within  the  flood. 

All  night  there  raged  a  wintry  storm, 

And  sunny  morning-tide 
Kevealed  a  shadow  and  a  form, 

Close  sleeping  side  by  side. 

And  soon  a  passing  traveler  found 

The  fair-haired,  youthful  one, 
Stretched  pulseless  on  the  snowy  ground — 

His  face   against  the  sun. 


60  THE  SHADOW. 

The  form  was  wrapt  in  winter's  pall ; 

In  death  the  lips  were  clasped ; 
And  in  the  hand,  an  icicle 

Was,  like  a  sceptre,  grasped. 


A  HAPPY  DAY. 


A  dearer  day  may  sometime  come  to  me, 
But  none  is  garnered  in  my  memory, 
So  sweet  as  that  I  lately  spent  with  thee. 

The  sun  that  shone  upon  us  seemed  the  same 
That  often  lights  the  evening  clouds  with  flame, 
And  all  the  leafless  scene  was  cold  and  tame. 

And  thus  each  sound  and  form  and  color  died  ; 
But  in  my  soul  they  found  a  place  to  hide 
Until,  as  now,  they  rise  up  glorified  ; 

For,  all  the  scenes  that  are  entombed  in  sense, 


A  IIAPPY  DAY. 

Have  each  a  living  essence  that  from  thence 
Awakes  in  Fancy's  world  to  life  intense. 

Those  leafless  trees,  tome,  are  every  one 
With  blooming  recollections  clothed  upon, 
And  with  a  purer  glory  shines  the  sun. 

The  chill  November  wind  that  shook  the  trees, 
Comes  back  to  me  like  airs  from  summer  seas, 
As  soft  and  fragrant  as  the  hum  of  bees. 

No  more  the  faded  fields  are  dry  and  sere ; 
They  freshly  wave  as  in  the  virgin  year, 
Or  as  an  Eden  in  a  sinless  sphere. 

The  road,  the  house,  the  mimic  lake, 

Such  color  from  imagination  take — 

Are  so  transfigured  for  your  own  sweet  sake, 

That  all  the  vale  a  perfect  picture  seems, 
Enriched  with  shade  and  lit  with  golden  gleams, 
Like  those  that  bless  our  lightest  morning  dreams. 

And  then  the  long  and  quiet  walks  we  took 


A  HAPPY  DAY. 

Around  the  hills,  along  the  roaring  brook — 
How  changed,  yet  real,  all  the  objects  look  ! 

The  dizzy  rocks  in  recollection  rise 
Sublime  as  were  the  walls  of  Paradise 
That  once  in  vision  met  the  prophet's  eyes  ; 

And  we — ah,  we  were  more  than  mortal  there, 
For  you  were  as  the  angels  wise,  and  fair, 
And  I,  like  them,  was  free  from  earthly  care. 

We  said  not  much,  but  only  seemed  to  stroll 

As  spirits  that  on  heavenly  hilis  patrol, 

And,  silent,  hold  communion  soul  with  soul — 

Like  seraphs  who,  upon  some  crystal  height, 

See  far  below  them,  in  this  mortal  night, 

The  stream  of  Life  flash  onward  wild  and  bright. 

That  foaming  torrent ! — 'tis  a  symbol  true 

Of  my  own  being  flowing  on  to  you, 

Since  first  your  loveliness  and  worth  I  knew. 

My  childhood  was  the  wandering  of  the  rill, 


63 


64  A  HAPPY  DAY. 

My  youth  the  toilsome  turning  of  a  mill, 
With  dreamy  windings  thro'  the  world,  until 

Like  yonder  stream,  when  first  you  chanced  to  pass, 
My  soul  reflected  back  your  spirit-face, 
And  saw  itself  reflected  there  as  in  a  glass. 

A  pilgrim  stream — a  wayward  anchoret, 
In  none  of  those  I  looked  upon,  as  yet 
Had  I  such  likeness  in  unlikeness  met. 

But  you,  enchanted  with  your  image  caught 
Within  the  clearest  mirror  of  my  thought, 
I  held  my  purposed  course  of  life  for  naught. 

By  some  sweet  influence  of  your  eyelids  led, 
I  left  the  vales  where  I  had  slumbered, 
And  down  an  untried  steep  I  wildly  sped. 

And  you — a  spirit  flitting  on  the  rocks — 
I  followed,  where  a  gulf  of  wonder  locks 
Me  in,  and  where  I  fall  in  blissful  shocks 

From  love  to  love,  in  such  a  sudden  way 


A  HAPPr  DAY.  65 

That  all  my  life  is  changed  to  happy  spray, 
Nor,  if  I  would,  can  I  the  current  stay. 

And  still  I  follow,  still  I  seem  to  hear 
The  cataract's  deep  music  sounding  near, 
In  tones  prophetic,  clearer  and  more  clear ; 

And  still  I  seem  to  list  your  spirit-call, 
And  see  you  leaning  o'er  the  fearful  Fall 
Where  I  must  dare  the  last  descent  of  all. 

And  will  you,  aerial  spirit,  as  you  are, 

With  me,  the  plunge,  the  shock,  the  whirlpool  dare, 

And  all  my  chanceful  lot  enjoy  or  bear  ? 

And  will  you  from  your  prouder  height  descend, 
Your  life  with  mine  in  lowly  union  blend, 
Until  the  mingled  river  reach  its  end — 

Until  our  stream-like  flow,  thro'  gloom  and  glee, 
Shall  pay  its  tribute  to  that  boundless  sea 
Where  love  is  lost  in  Love's  infinity.     * 

My  thoughts,  that  golden  day,  were  something  such  ; 


66  A  HAPPY  DAY. 

But  glances,  smiles  and  kindlings  of  the  touch, 
Were  better  than  to  utter  overmuch. 

Nor  did  I  know  my  heart ;  for,  to  be  seen, 
There  must  be  space  our  joys  and  us  between, 
And  quiet  reveries  must  intervene — 

Those  solitary  hours  that  o'er  us  steal 

In  silence,  when  the  floating  thoughts  we  feel, 

To  Fancy's  airy  frost-work  may  congeal. 


THE  DEAD-WATCH. 


EACH  saddened  face  is  gone,  and  tearful  eye 
Of  mother,  brother,  and  of  sisters  fair ; 

With  ghostly  sound  their  distant  footfalls  die 
Thro'  whispering  hall,  and  up  the  rustling  stair. 

In  yonder  room  the  newly  dead  doth  sleep ; 

Begin  we  thus,  my  friend,  our  watch  to  keep. 

And  now  both  feed  the  fire  and  trim  the  lamp ; 

Pass  chcerly,  if  we  can,  the  slow-paced  hours  ; 
For,  all  without  is  cold,  and  drear,  and  damp, 

And  the  wide  air  with  storm  and  darkness  lowers ; 
Pass  cheerly,  if  we  may,  the  live-long  night, 
And  chase  pale  phantoms,  paler  fear,  to  flight. 


68  k  TIIE  DEAD- WATCH. 

We  will  not  talk  of  death,  of  pall  and  knell — 
Leave  that,  the  mirth  of  brighter  hours  to  check  ; 

But  tales  of  life,  love,  beauty,  let  us  tell, 
Or  of  stern  battle,  sea  and  stormy  wreck ; 

Call  up  the  visions  gay  of  other  days — 

Our  boyhood  sports  and  merry  youthful  ways. 

Hark  to  the  distant  bell ! — an  hour  is  gone  ! 

Enter  yon  silent  room  with  footsteps  light ; 
Our  brief,  appointed  duty  must  be  done — 

To  bathe  the  face,  and  stay  death's  rapid  blight — 
To  bare  the  rigid  face,  and  dip  the  cloth 
That  hides  a  mortal,  '  crushed  before  the  moth.' 

The  bathing  liquid  scents  the  chilly  room  ; 

How  spectral  white  are  shroud  and  veiling  lace 
On  yonder  side-board,  in  the   fearful  gloom  ! 

Take  off  the  muffler  from  the  sleeper's  face — 
You  spoke,  my  friend,  of  sunken  cheek  and  eye — 
Ah,  what  a  form  of  beauty  here  doth  lie  ! 

Never  hath  Art,  from  purest  wax  or  stone, 

So  fair  an  image,  and  so  lustrous,  wrought ; 
It  is  as  if  a  beam  from  Heaven  had  shown 


THE  DEAD- WATCH.  69 

A  weary  angel  in  sweet  slumber  caught ! — 
The  smiling  lip— the  warmly  tinted  cheek, 
And  all  so  calm,  so  saint-like,  and  so  meek  ! 

She  softly  sleeps,  and  yet  how  unlike  sleep  ; 

No  fairy  dreams  flit  o'er  that  marble  face, 
As  ripples  play  along  the  breezy  deep, 

As  shadows  o'er  the  field  each  other  chase  ; 
The  spirit  dreams  no  more,  but  wakes  in  light, 
And  freely  wings  its  flashing  seraph  flight. 

She  sweetly  sleeps,  her  lips  and  eyelids  sealed  ; 

No  ruby  jewel  heaves  upon  her  breast, 
With  her  quick  breath  now  hidden,  now  revealed, 

As  setting  stars  long  tremble  in  the  west ; 
But  white  and  still  as  drifts  of  moonlit  snow, 
Her  folded  cerements  and  her  flushless  brow 

Oh  there  is  beauty  in  the  winter  moon, 
And  beauty  in  the  brilliant  summer  flower, 

And  in  the  liquid  eye  and  luring  tone 

Of  radiant  Love's  and  rosy  Laughter's  hour; 

But  where  is  beauty,  in  this  blooming  world, 

Like  Death  upon  a  maiden's  lip  impearled  ! 


70  THE  DEAD-WATCH. 

Veil  we  the  dead,  and  close  the  open  door ; 

Perhaps  the  spirit,  ere  it  soar  above, 
Would  watch  its  clay  alone,  and  hover  o'er 

The  face  it  once  had  kindled  into  love  ; 
Commune  we  hence,  0  friend,  this  wakeful  night, 
Of  Death  made  lovely  by  so  blest  a  sight. 


"  MORE  LIGHT.' 


I  had  a  vision,  yesternight, 

Of  one  who  clomb  a  mountain's  side, 
And  loudly  cried  for  "  Light — more  light ! 

And  loudlier  called  at  every  stride. 

His  words  so  silver-voiced — so  broad 
And  fair  his  marble  throne  of  mind, 

He  walked  the  mountain  like  a  god, 
And  upward  gazed,  but — he  was  blind. 

And  thro'  his  filmy  eyes  there  came 
The  glimmer  of  a  distant  glare, 

For,  all  the  summit  burned  with  flame, 
And  shot  its  cinders  high  in  air. 


72  "  MORE  LIGHT." 

Still  up  and  on  he  urged  his  way, 
With  form  erect  and  footsteps  bold, 

Till  he  was  lost,  beyond  the  day, 

"Within  the  smoke  that  downward  rolled. 

"More  light — more  light !"  he  proudly  said, 
"  Too  long  has  truth  in  darkness  lain, 

Too  long  have  men  for  falsehood  bled — 
The  world  shall  welcome  Reason's  reign. 

I  gasp  for  breath  in  bigot  clouds, 
But  keep  my  upward,  onward  way, 

And  brighter,  brighter  stream  the  floods 
Of  freer  thought  and  coming  day  !" 

His  voice  was  lost  to  listening  ears, 
His  form  grew  dim  to  sight  of  men, 

And,  in  the  happy  after  years, 
His  name  was  never  heard  again. 


SONNETS. 


CALIFORNIA. 

HIGH  towering  o'er  our  broad  and  fruitful  land, 

His  head  above  the  topmost  twinkling  star, 
I  saw,  in  dream,  a  shining  Figure  stand, 
And  hold  a  world-long  balance  in  his  hand. 

To  that,  dim  forms  were  winging  from  afar ; 
And,  casting  what  they  brought,  in  either  scale, 

They  watched  the  trembling  pointer's  faintest  jar. 
In  vain  round  one  scale  gathered  angels  pale, 
And  in  it  wept  their  tears,  with  prayerful  wail, 

To  add  a  weight  to  all  their  diadems ; 
For,  in  the  other,  iron  crowns  were  thrown. 

Then  came  a  bright  young  Form,  in  flashing  gems, 
And  with  the  angels  cast  her  golden  crown — 

The  other  scale  flew  up,  and  this  went  down  ! 

4 


74  SONNETS. 


A    REPLY. 

I  KNOW,  I  sometimes  only  jingle  rhymes 

Together,  by  the  force  of  love  or  will ; 
But  there  are  rarer,  purer,  calmer  times, 

"When  all  the  soul,  in  light  serene  and  still, 
Is  lifted  up,  and  thought  with  feeling  chimes, 

And  strange  new  energies  my  spirit  thrill. 
At  first,  I  seem  with  toil  to  recollect 

A  song  I  framed  in  antenatal  states; 
But  soon  I  read  it  in  my  mind  correct, 

And  each  predestined  word  impatient  waits 
For  ink  ;  or,  rather,  all  my  soul  can  hold 
Runs,  pure  and  glowing,  into  proper  mould  ; 

And  if  there  be  a  line  or  accent  lame, 

My  transmigrated  memory  is  in.  blame. 


SONNETS.  75 


TO  A  BLONDE. 


I  EVER  loved  a  dark  and  doting  eye, 
And  heavy  curls  of  glossy  raven  hair ; 

But  now,  oh  Lilie,  never  more  I  sigh 

For  eyes  and  ringlets  steeped  in  Passion's  dye, 
Since  loveliness  like  thine  is  passing  fair, 
Whatever  be  the  color  it  may  wear. 

The  hair  is  but  a  turban  for  the  head, 
The  eyelash  but  a  little  fairy  veil — 

Each  lovely,  if  to  Beauty  they  are  wed. 
I  love  thy  hair,  so  golden-brown  and  pale, 
That  o'er  thy  temples  thou  dost  smoothly  trail ; 

I  love  thy  drooping  eyelid's  silver  thread  ; 
But,  more  than  braided  locks  of  sunny  gold, 
Thee — thee  I  love,  thou  ever  sunny-souled  ! 


76  SONNET3. 


A  PICTURE. 

A  CROSS  is  set  in  verdure  bright  and  deep, 
Where  he  who  painted  last  the  "  Cross  and  World," 

Amid  his  mountain  solitudes  should  sleep, 
While  evermore  the  sunset  clouds,  unfurled, 

In  crimson  smile— ^-in  gloomy  showers  weep, 

And,  low  beneath,  their  watch  the  Catskills  keep ; 
Above,  the  lofty  piles  of  cloud  upwhirled, 

Like  Alps  of  efflorescent  silver,  stand. 
Ay,  such  should  be  his  monument  sublime, 

And  wrapt  in  mournful  gloom  should  be  the  land 

That  felt  the  waving  of  his  magic  wand — 
That  with  his  name  is  linked  in  after  Time. 
Nor  is  thy  dream  to  COLE'S  renown  alone  : 
It  prophesies,  0  gifted  CIIURCH,  thine  own. 
May,  1848. 


SONNETS. 


T\VO  PICTURES. 


Two  pictures  paint  for  me — the  first,  a  Cross 
In  foreground  light  against  a  distant  shroud 

Of  gloom,  which  scattered  altar-fires  emboss, 
And  thro'  which  loom  in  shade  the  cities  proud 
Of  Athens,  Nincvah,  and  Babel's  crowd, 

While,  far  beyond,  the  Deluge  billows  toss, 
And  gleams  of  Eden  pierce  its  midnight  cloud. 

The  other  picture — let  it  be  the  same 

Bright  Cross  reversed  from  light,  in  foreground  black, 

The  Victim  half-seen  now  behind  its  frame, 

And,  just  beyond,  Jerusalem  in  flame, 
And  then  still  later  history,  in  a  track 

Of  light  that  reaches  from  the  Cross  to  where 

The  grand  Apocalypse  fills  all  the  air. 


78  BONNETS. 


AUTUMN  SNOW. 

ALL  day  the  streaming  roofs  and  swimming  ground 

Have  shed,  or  drank  the  plenteous  autumn  rains ; 
All  day  the  heavy-laden  skies  have  frowned, 
And  dozing  eyes  have  felt  the  slumberous  sound, 
While  gazing  idly  at  the  sullen  plains — 
Or,  waked  to  watch  the  thousand  vivid  stains 
That  dye  the  far  off  frost-enkindled  woods, 

And  fire  the  way-side  trees,  whose  foliage  drips, 
Like  bathing-birds  with  crimson  feather-tips. 
Lo  !  suddenly  a  whiter  darkness  broods, 
And  floating  snow  succeeds  the  plashing  floods  : 

The  monstrous  flakes  seem  large  as  wafted  ships — 
Or,  like  a  white-winged  angel  throng  they  fall ; — 
Alas !  how  can  we  mortals  entertain  ye  all ! 


SONNETS. 


THREE  SPIRITS. 


The  Summer  came,  and  with  it  came  a  dream ; 

I  saw  a  galley  all  of  golden  sheen, 
And  sails  of  silk,  float  down  a  crystal  stream, 
And  in  it  sat,  with  eyes  of  burning  beam, 

The  spirit  of  the  fair  Egyptian  queen. 
The  Autumn  came ;  I  saw  an  Indian  maid 

Who  glided  thro'  the  faded  windy  woods, 
With  scarlet  berries  in  the  glossy  braid 
That  veiled  her  olive  face  in  dusky  shade. 

The  Spring  returned ;  I  lay  beside  its  floods, 
And  there  in  dreams  thy  form  around  me  played 

With  dewy  blooms.     I  see,  in  vernal  moods, 
No  dream  of  eld,  but  freshest  hopes  awako 
To  crown  the  Future  for  thy  own  dear  sake. 


80  SONNETS. 


TO  NO  OXE. 


"  ROLL  on,  thou  deep  and  dark-blue  ocean — roll !" 
But  I  forget  myself — 'tis  not  the  sea 
I  would  address  in  bold  apostrophy ; 
'Tis  one,  of  thought  profound  and  virgin  soul, 
Whose  single  blessedness  I  would  condole. 

"  Time  writes  no  wrinkle  on  thine  azure  brow/' 
For,  in  the  eldest  gossip's  memory, 

Thou  wert  as  old  and  blue  as  thou  art  now  ; 
And  many  broken  hearts,  'tis  said,  didst  thou 
Let  die  "  unknelled,  uncoSmecl,  and  unknown," 
Or  drive  distracted  with  thy  learned  tone. 

Oh  thou  so  stern,  declare  by  what  chaste  vow, 
Thou  art  most  deep  and  transcendental  grown, 
And  livest  on — "  dread,  fathomless,  alone  !" 


SONNETS. 


MT.  HOLYOKE. 


The  upward,  winding  road  and  rocky  stair, 
Our  weary  feet  have  slowly  trod,  and  now 
We  stand  at  last  upon  the  mountain's  brow. 

So  close  below  it  sleep  the  vallies  fair, 

It  seems  an  island  floating  in  the  air ; — 

So  near  beneath  this  giddy  brink,  'twould  seem 

That  one  might  overleap  the  mountain's  base, 
And  plunge  far  down  within  yon  coiling  stream 

That  now  reflects,  in  its  unruffled  face, 

The  spanning  bridge  and  elm- tree's  weeping  grace. 
The  soul  recoils  at  such  a  thought ;  the  eye 

Loves  more  to  rove  around  the  circling  space 
Where  purple  hills,  against  the  summer  sky, 
Seem  all  there  is  of  Earth's  immensity  ! 

4* 


SONNETS. 


A  SUNBEAM. 


An  angel-sunbeam  started  from  the  sun, 

Nor  stopped  to  toy  with  Mercury  in  his  orbit, 

So  swiftly  on  its  errand  it  must  run  ; 

The  warmth  of  Venus,  next,  did  not  absorb  it, 
Nor  clouds  and  vapors  in  its  speed  could  curb  it. 

On — on  it  flew,  until  its  goal  was  won, 
And  there  it  shone  in  glory  on  my  wall. 

Thank  God,  who  sent  it  thus  to  chase  my  gloom, — 
A  hundred  million  miles,  on  me  to  fall, 

And  fill  with  happy  thoughts  my  soul — my  room  ! 
Thank  God,  that  I  can  send  a  prayer  to  all, 

As  far,  as  warm,  to  cheer  a  hapless  doom  ! 

Thank  God,  our  kindness  need  not  shine  so  far, 

But  it  may  greet  some  nearer  human  star  I 


LOVE'S  SUNSET. 


Oil  there  are  other  burning  days 

Than  those  that  light  the  common  world ; 
And  there  are  other  dazzling  rays 

Than  those  in  summer  clouds  impearled ; 
There  is  a  day  within  the  soul — 

A  long  sweet  day  that  dawns  not  twice, 
And  when  its  sun  hath  reached  the  goal, 

The  heart  is  left  to  freeze  in  ice. 

We  love  in  boyhood's  dreamy  hour, 
And  never  love  in  truth  again  ; 

Beauty  hath  then  a  noonday  power, 
And  maddens  with  delicious  pain ; 

A  look  is  like  a  mirrored  ray — 

A  glance  like  sudden  flashing  light, 


84  LOVE'S  SUNSET. 

That  makes  the  pulses  wildly  play, 
And  lures  and  blinds  the  dizzy  sight. 

Slow  dawns  that  love  upon  the  heart, 

When,  wakened  from  our  childhood's  sleep, 
We  gaze  around,  and,  wondering,  start 

From  heavy  slumber,  long  and  deep  ; 
And  all  about  are  dewy  glades, 

And  bird-like  hovering  songs  above, 
And  misty,  changing  lights  and  shades 

That  shadow  out  the  Land  of  Love, 

Up  rises  then  a  full-orbed  sun — 

The  silent  sun  of  speechless  love ; 
We  drink  a  glowing  life  from  one 

Who  ever  walks  in  light  above, 
And  flings  such  splendor  on  our  way, 

That  golden  languor  o'er  us  rolls, 
And  we  would  bid  the  sun  to  stay 

In  the  midway  heaven  of  our  souls. 

But  time  speeds  on  with  all  its  change, 

And  Love's  long  day  wears  slow  away, 
And  sets  beyond  some  mountain  range ; 


LOVE'S  SUNSET.  85 

Yet  will  its  dying  colors  play 
For  months  aud  years  within  the  heart, 

As  if  the  purple  and  the  gold 
Of  youth's  romance  would  ne'er  depart 

And  leave  us  lost  in  twilight  cold. 


LOVE'S  ALCHEMY. 


"  So,  if  I  waste  -words  now,  in  truth 

You  must  blame  Love.  His  early  rage 
Had  iorce  to  make  me  rhyme  in  youth, 

And  makes  me  talk  too  much  in  age." 

«•  The  Miller^  Daughter." 


'  Of  progressive  souls,  all  loves  and  friendships  are  momentary." 

EMEBSO*. 


In  boyhood  dreams  my  Fancy  loved  to  look 

Within  the  spirit-haunted  cells  of  old, 

Where  great  magicians  dealt  with  things  unknown  ; 

Where  crucibles  and  deadly  alkalies, 

Black  liquors,  crooked  flasks,  and  frightful  skulls, 

Of  Wisdom  spake,  that  dared  the  realms  of  Fear ; — 

Or,  in  the  laboratories  richly  built, 

Where  princes  vied  with  plodding  penury, 


LOVE  8   ALCHEMY. 

To  tear  the  secret  heart  of  nature  out. 
But  never  had  I  dreamed  that  I  should  see 
A  living  alchemist,  until,  one  day, 
The  aged  stranger  took  me  by  the  hand, 
And  led  me  to  his  den.     He  was  a  man 
Whom  all  had  shunned  as  mad  ;  but  I,  in  lovo 
Of  one  so  sad  and  mild,  had  won  his  heart. 
He  led  me  to  his  lonely  room,  and  there 
My  wildest  visions  all  were  realized. 
Around,  were  all  the  wonders  of  his  art ; 
And  long  we  sat  discoursing  of  the  stone 
That  changed  all  substance  into  ruddy  gold. 
"  Already  have  I  found  some  hidden  powers," 
He  said,  "  and  hope  to  find   the^master-charm." 
But  I  rejoined,  •'  To. day,  I  read  that  those 
Who  spent  their  life  in  such  a  fruitless  search, 
Were  little  mindful  of  their  busy  times, 
And  lost  the  warm  humanities  of  life, 
And  ceased  to  love" — and  here  I  faintly  blushed. 
But  he  with  heightened  color  spoke  :  "  My  art 
Will  yet  outrival  all  the  arts  that  late 
Have  flattered  men  to  sudden  pride,  and  yet 
I  shall  have  given  a  treasure  to  the  world. 
Nor  am  dead  to  life  and  gentle  love. 


88  LOVE'S  ALCHEMF. 

For,  by  my  skill,  I  summon  back  to  me 

The  spirit-forms  of  those  I  loved  in  youth. 

There  are  who  curl  their  manhood's  bearded  lip 

At  Love,  and  lightly  speak  of  childish  whims, 

As  they  had  all  outlived  the  fire  of  youth, 

Aud  cooled  its  liquid  gold  to  iron  strength. 

Strange  alchemy  ! — and  stranger  end  of  life — • 

To  toil  and  glow  before  the  world's  great  forge, 

To  blow  its  smouldering  coals  with  urgent  breath, 

To  force  the  vital  dew  from  foreheads,  grimed 

With  dust  and  smoke,  and  slowly  thus  to  steal 

The  blood  from  muscles  full  and  rounded  cheeks;  - 

Until  the  fibres  of  the  shrunken  face 

Stand  net-like  out^ke  faded,  eaten  loaves; — 

All — all  to  wring  the  baser  from  the  precious, — 

Black  coals  from  music -flashing  diamonds. 

There  is  a  higher  chemistry — to  hold 

The  loves  and  sighs  of  youth  of  wondrous  price, 

To  fuse  them  in  the  pointed,  solving  flame 

Of  after  wisdom, — each  component  part 

To  separate  by  nice  analysis, 

And  thus  to  find  the  elemental  truths 

That  make  life's  combinations  beautiful ; — 

To  melt,  and  then  to  cool  them  all  again 


LOVE  S   ALCHEMY. 

la  other  crystal  harmonies  of  thought. 

But  sit  you  down,  and  look  with  reverent  eye. 
And  you  shall  see  the  glowing  forms  of  all 
The  queenly  line  that  reigned  within  my  heart. 
I  sing  a  potent  spell  to  call  them  forth ; 
Then,  at  a  touch,  the  shapely  mists  shall  fall, 
And,  one  by  one,  shall  leave  the  polished  drop 
Of  magic  metal  pure,  from  which  they  sprang. 

Spirits  of  Earth,  and  Air,  and  Fire, 
Skim  the  dross  and  fan  the  flame  ! 

Behold  the  might  of  young  desire, 
Rise,  sweet  spirit,  at  thy  name  ! 

A  little  child  with  soft  blue  eyes,     * 
That  speak  of  joy  and  half  surprise  ; 
And  she  is  fair,  as  children  are, 
And  more  than  this  we  cannot  say. 
How  stole  she  then  my  heart  away  ? 
We  rambled  all  the  sunny  hours 
By  spangled  banks  of  yellow  flowers, 
And  'neath  the  ancient  orchard  trees, 
As  we  had  been  two  wedded  bees  ; 


LOVE'S   ALCHEMY. 

And  thus  we  lisped  our  little  vows, 
And  said  that  we  would  each  espouse 
The  other,  at  a  distant  day. 
How  won  this  child  my  heart  away  ? 
Now,  magic  wand,  dissolve  the  shape, 
And  you  shall  see  the  mist  escape, 
And  know  the  charm,  whate'er  it  be  ;- 
The  silver  drop  is  INFANCY  !     ^ 

Spirits  of  Earth,  and  Fire,  and  Air, 
Scatter  the  ashes — stir  the  flame  ! 

Behold  another,  young  and  fair, — 
Rise,  fair  spirit,  at  thy  name  ! 

A  graceful  girl  of  two  and  ten, 
Just  at  the  budding  moment,  when 
The  child  begins  to  watch  and  wear 
A  woman's  look  and  matron  air, 
And,  with  a  winsome  mimicry, 
Affects  a  thousand  things  to  be. 
Her  silver  laugh  is  never  mute ; 
She  has  a  fairy  hand  and  foot, 
A  red-ripe  lip,  and  witching  glance 
That  never  stays  in  wanton  dance ; 


LOVE'S   ALCHEMY. 

With  whirl  and  twirl  and  airy  spring, 
Smiling  ever — ever  on  the  wing, 
She  doats,  and  floats,  and  lends  a  kiss 
That  fires  a  doubting  boy  with  bliss. 
A  child  would  chase  right  up  the  sky 
A  silver-sprinkled  butterfly ; 
And  so  I  loved  her  thoughtlessly, 
Believing,  with  the  heart  of  youth, 
When  all  is  fair,  then  all  is  truth, 
And  all  is  good  where  all  is  gay. 
How  could  she  take  my  heart  away  ? 
A  dart  of  flame — she  disappears, 
And  as  the  curling  vapors  die, 
Within  the  crucible  adheres 
The  glistening  dross  of  COQUETRY  ! 

Spirits  of  Air,  and  Fire,  and  Earth, 
Stir  the  coals,  and  wake  the  flame  ! 

Let  shadows  brood  another  birth ; 
Rise,  pure  spirit,  at  thy  name  ! 

A  slender  form  of  gentleness, 
With  golden  chain  aud  simple  dress  ; 
Not  beautiful,  but  young  and  pure, 


LOTE'S  ALCHEMY. 

She  has  a  look  and  voice  demure  ; 
Yet,  in  that  soul  of  earnest  truth, 
There  is  a  merry  gush  of  youth ; 
The  limpid  stream  of  quietude, 
Translucent  with  simplicity, 
Will  often  break  from  plenitude, 
In  sparkles  of  unconscious  glee. 
Her  bubbling  words  for  ever  start 
From  out  the  fountain  of  her  heart ; 
And  she  knows  not  if  she  be  fair, 
Nor  if  she  be  the  heir  of  wealth  ; 
Nor  hides  a  glance  of  honest  stealth 
From  one  too  young  to  think  or  care 
But  how  his  love  he  best  may  say. 
How  stole  this  saint  my  heart  away  ? 
A  touch  dissolves  the  gentle  form, 
And  from  her  breast  a  jewel  warm 
Among  the  ashes  you  may  see  : — 
The  crystal  is  SINCERITY  ! 

Spirits  of  Air,  and  Fire,  and  Sea, 
Sweep  the  sky — its  flashes  tame 
To  light  the  blaze  of  memory  ! 


LOVE'S   ALCHEMY.  93 

Rise,  bright  spirit,  at  thy  name  ! 

In  glowing  loveliness  appears 

The  goddess  of  the  student's  years ; 

She  seems  to  move  diviner  than 

The  olden  forms  Olympian, 

And  all  around,  with  twinkling  faces, 

Forever  dance  a  group  of  Graces. 

She  has  a  beauty,  sweet  and  strange, 

That  to  a  thousand  shapes  will  change  ; 

Yet  not  her  outward  loveliness 

The  dazzled  soul  can  so  possess, 

As  the  ever  winning  eloquence 

That  flows  from  purest  love  intense 

Of  every  breathing,  burning  thought 

That  Genius  from  its  depths  has  brought. 

I  dreamed  me  o'er  the  Poet's  page, 

And  strove  to  grasp  the  thoughtful  Sage ; 

Yet,  both,  a  new  significance 

Transfused  thro'  her  sweet  lip  and  glance, 

And  all  great  spirits  seemed  to  find 

In  her  a  genial  heart  and  mind, 

And  kindled  there  the  truest  ray. 

How  stole  this  star  my  heart  away  ? 


94  LOVE'S   ALCHEMY. 

A  flash  electric  solves  the  spell ; 
The  gold  within  the"  crucible 
('Tis  hard  between  the  two  to  guess) 
Is  INTELLECT,  or  is  LOVELINESS  ! 

Spirits  of  Frost,  and  Ice  and  Cold, 
Chill  the  coals  and  kill  the  flame  ! 

And  from  the  air  a  statue  mould  ; 
Rise,  pale  spirit,  at  thy  name  ! 

Like  Venus  rising  from  the  sea, 

A  snow-white  face  of  faultless  lines, 

A  form  of  perfect  symmetry  ; 

Her  penciled  brow  enshrines 

An  icy  brilliant  eye ;  her  lip 

But  speaks  of  nicest  workmanship  ; 

Its  bloom  is  not  the  bloom  of  life, 

But  rather  like  the  crimson  stain 

That  may  from  year  to  year  remain 

Upon  a  coldly  glittering  knife. 

No  shade  of  feeling  ever  crossed 

That  face  of  aye  unmelted  frost ; 

No  languor  in  her  attitude 

For  once  unstrings  the  saintly  prude  ; 


LOVE  3    ALCHEMY. 

No  swimming  motion  in  her  gait, 
But  all  the  march  of  queenly  state 
Upon  a  coronation  day. 
How  warmed  she  then  my  heart  away  ? 
I  just  had  seized  the  magic  brush — 
Had  knelt  before  the  shrine  of  Art, 
And  bathed  within  the  glorious  flush. 
Of  visioned  Beauty, — thus  my  heart 
Leapt  at  the  sight  of  her,  but  shrank 
To  find  no  soul,  and  all  a  blank. 
Now  let  the  statue  crumble  down, 
And,  like  the  fragment  of  a  crown, 
Upon  the  dusty  hearth  and  sooty, 
Behold  the  frozen  pearl  of  BEAUTY  ! 

Spirits  of  Stars,  and  Streams,  and  Flowers, 
Strew  your  fragrance  and  your  bloom  ! 

Give  back  the  last  beloved,  ye  Hours, — 
At  her  name,  oh  give  her  room  ! 

A  little,  gentle,  loving  maid, 

In  simple  mourning  weeds  arrayed — 

A  lily  in  an  ebon  vase. 

Her  ripe,  yet  pure,  transparent  face 


LOTE  S   ALCHEMY. 

Shows  quick  the  passing  rosy  rush 
Of  soft  emotion's  faintest  flush,— 
As  if  a  bridal  rose  should  change, 
By  some  indwelling  magic  strange, 
From  white  to  red  and  red  to  white. 
Her  drooping  eyelids  shade  the  light 
Of  eyes  that  else  had  shot  too  bright ; 
And  on  her  lip  a  fairy  smile 
Lies  sweetly  sleeping  all  the  while,— 
Save  when,  awakened  but  in  half, 
It  starts  bewildered  to  a  laugh  ! 
Her  many  sorrows  leave  no  shade, 
Nor  any  brooding  glooms  impart ; 
But,  sunshine  lies  upon  the  braid 
Of  golden  glory  round  her  head, 
And  sunshine  lies  within  her  heart. 
Her  lips  and  looks  are  love  distilled, 
With  brimming  love  her  soul  is  filled, 
And  love  flows  in  her  motions  all, 
And  makes  her  voice  most  musical. 
If  more  than  this  I  cannot  say, 
Why  drew  she  then  my  heart  away  ? 
Again,  oh  wand,  dissolve  the  shape, 
And  let  the  magic  mist  escape ; 


LOVE'S  ALCHEMY.  97 

Behold  a  charm  all  charms  above — 
Here  glows  the  diamond  of  LOVE  ! 

The  incantation's  done.     The  last  sweet  lesson, 
Unwitting  given,  hath  taught  me  this,  at  last — 
To  love  for  Love's,  and  not  the  loved  one's  sake ; 
In  loving  her,  I  loved  but  Love,  and  now 
All  shapes  and  persons  matter  not  to  me, — 
For,  at  the  best,  they  fade  and  pass  away. 
To  love  is  its  own  end ;  to  love  some  one 
Degrades  an  end  unto  a  means,  and  makes  • 
The  soul  dependent  on  mere  outward  forms 
That  come  and  go,  and  bring  us  pain  and  tears. 
Call  this  the  cold  philosophy  of  Self? — 
But  this  is  aye  a  world  of  cruel  change,     . 
And  sweet  refined  pain  must  conquer  pain  ; 
And,  loving  thus,  the  essence  all  remains, 
And  absence,  change,  and  death,  may  do  their  work ; 
The  Love  itself  survives.     Nor  do  me  wrong 
To  think  me  faithless ;  the  lesson  also  warns 
To  keep  the  heart  shut  up  to  its  own  joy. 
Nor  think  me  fickle  that  I  changed  so  oft, — 
More  oft,  in  truth,  than  I  have  told.     For  I 
Did  but  obey  a  self-transforming  instinct, 

5 


98  LOVE'S  ALCHEMY. 

Like  as  the  seasons  change,  the  trees  enlarge, 
The  shells  renew  their  pearly  homes,  the  birds 
Assume  new  hues,  and  serpents  cast  their  slough, — 
Or,  as  Humanity  doth  ever  change 
Its  ends — first  loving  savage  Strength,  then  Wealth, 
Wisdom  next,  and  last  of  all,  the  might  of  Love." 

And  more  the  old  man  said,  while  I  sat  by, 
And  saw  in  wordless  wonder  all  the  shapes 
Appear  and  fade  ;  and  oft  I  started  up, 
As  if  to  clasp  the  visions  in  my  arms, 
And  then  in  awe  fell  back  ;  and  when  the  last 
Had  melted  into  air,  I  heard  no  more 
Than  I  have  written.     But  the  alchemist 
Still  talked  of  mind  progressive,  forms  of  love, 
And  evil  being  but  good  in  dark  disguise, 
And  fiends  but  creatures  of  the  coward  brain, 
And  more  of  which  I  recollect  few  words ; 
But  now  it  seems  an  echo  of  the  cheap 
And  sounding  speech  of  our  philosophers. 
•  His  looks  and  words  grew  wild,  and  suddenly 
A  shadow  seemed  to  fall  upon  my  heart — 
A  voiceless  woe  to  fill  my  startled  soul. 
I  felt  some  evil  presence  near,  and  soon 


LOVE'S  ALCHEMY.  99 

I  saw  the  aged  man  spring  up,  and  clench 
His  hand,  and  gaze  aghast  at  empty  air. 
"  I  will  not  yield  my  soul,  0  hated  fiend  !" 
He  said,  and  then  exhausted,  speechless,  pale, 
He  sank  upon  the  ground,  and  moved  no  more. 
How  long  I  sat  I  know  not,  but  at  length 
I  stirred,  and  rose,  and  ran  in  fright  away. 


TO  A  FLOWEK, 

FOUND  IN  A  CHEST  OF  TEA. 

A  FADED  blue-bell  in  a  chest  of  tea  ! 

A  messenger  from  distant  regions  sent — 
A  voyager  across  the  mighty  sea — 

A  link  'twixt  continent  and  continent ! 
Though  but  a  waif — a  trifle — thou  to  me 

Of  many  scenes  and  thoughts  art  eloquent — 
Of  scenes  fantastic,  beautiful  and  strange, 
As  lie  within  the  world's  unbounded  range. 

The  Central  Flowery  Kingdom  was  thy  home, 
And  thou,  a  witness  of  its  light  and  bloom, 

Art  sent  of  Heaven,  if  not  of  men,  to  roam, 
Imprisoned  darkly  in  a  fragrant  tomb, 


TO  A  FLOWER.  101 

And  tossed  upon  the  surging  ocean's  foam, 

Until,  enshrined  within  a  student's  room, 

Thy  crushed  and  brittle  leaflets  are  unfurled 

To  greet  the  sunshine  of  a  Western  World. 

Oh,  that  thy  quickened  life  could  flow  again, 
And  that  we  knew  the  silent  thoughts  of  flowers  ! 

Thy  deep-blue  eyes  and  leafy  lips  would  then 
Declare  if  other  skies  are  sweet  as  ours — 

Would  speak  of  wondrous  climes  beyond  our  ken, 
And  wile  away  the  silver-sandaled  hours 

With  many  tales  of  that  mysterious  land, 

Around  whose  breadth  the  walls  of  ages  stand. 

And  yet  'tis  not  because  an  unknown  soil 

x      • 
Bore  thee,  that  thou  to  me  a  treasure  art ; 

For  there  man's  lot  is  no  less  one  of  toil  j 
He  bears  about  the  self-same  human  heart ; 

He  knows  the  same  sweet  peace  or  wild  turmoil, 
And  frets  out  life  in  camp,  and  court,  and  mart ; 

The  same  winds  blow,  no  other  sunlight  warms, 

And  all  is  Nature's  self  in  other  forms. 

This  simple  flower  has  deeper  thoughts  for  me, 


102  TO  A  FLOWER. 

For  that,  like  mine  and  every  living  soul, 
It  has  its  own  unraveled  history 

Recorded  on  no  earthly  page  or  scroll ; 
For  that  it  is  a  thread  of  sympathy 

With  lands  beyond  where  oceans  roll ; 
'  Within  the  infant  rind  of  this  small  flower,' 
MEMOKY  '  hath  residence,  and '  FANCY  '  power.' 


THE  NEW  PLANET, 


A  SONG  OP  THE  SOLAK  FAMILY. 


THE  EARTH. 

HAIL  ! — thou  distant  starry  stranger !      - 

Thou  art  a  planet  newly  born, 
As  once  a  star  above  the  manger, 

Unnumbered  in  creation's  morn, 
The  Eastern  wise-men  saw  at  night, 

O'erhanging  bright  the  Holy  Child, 
And  fading  when  the  dawning  light 
Outshone  the  day-star's  glory  mild. 

So  welcome  to  our  shining  number, 
All  hymning  as  we  dance  along ; 
We  watch  and  fan  thy  infant  slumber, 
And  lull  thee  with  our  aery  song. 


104  THE  NEW  PLANET. 


MARS. 

Hail ! — hail  thou  twinkling  fearful  stranger 

Fear  not  my  fierce  and  ruddy  eye, 
And  I  will  ward  off  every  danger, 

When  bearded  comets,  rushing  by, 
Trouble  thy  young  and  tender  heart. 

A  warrior  I,  with  spear  and  shield, 
Will  teach  thy  hand  to  hurl  the  dart, 

The  bow  to  spring,  the  sword  to  wield. 
Then  welcome,  etc. 


THE  ASTEROIDS. 

Lo  !  Ceres,  Pallas,  Juno,  Vesta, 

Thy  maids  of  honor  stars  ordain  ; 
And  we  will  guard  thy  noon's  siesta, 

And  wrap  thee  in  thy  swathing  train. 
The  first  bold  ranger  that  appears, 

We'll  clip  its  rays  and  weave  thy  robe, 
For,  like  the  Fates,  the  thread  and  shears 

We  hold,  and  clothe  each  new-born  globe. 
Then  welcome,  etc, 


THE  NEW  PLANET.  105 


JUPITER,  SATUKN  AND  IIERSCHEL. 

Hail ! — hail,  our  fair-haired  cherub-brother  ! 

Three  giant  brethren  grey  are  we, 
Who  think  no  ill  if  still  another 

Has  joined  our  starry  company  ; 
And  if  thy  tender  cheek  and  eye    \ 

Have  found  too  bright  the  fiery  sun, 
Give  us  thy  little  hand  and  fly 

Where  our  wide  wintry  circles  run. 
Then  welcome,  etc. 


VENUS. 

Come  ! — I  will  be  thy  loving  mother, 

Thou  wild  and  rosy  infant^sphere  ! 
Ah,  once  I  had  just  such  another — 

Nay,  blush  not,  Mars,  my  cavalier  ! 
They  called  him  Love,  while  on  the  Earth  ; 

He  winged  thro'  all  the  worlds  eleven, 
But  when  they  ill  repaid  his  mirth, 

He  fled,  affrighted  child,  to  Heaven. 
Then  welcome,  etc. 

5* 


106 


THE  NEW  PLANET. 


MERCURY. 


Again — again,  sweet  planet,  hail  ! 

Come,  warm  thee  in  the  sun's  great  eye, 
And  I  will  hush  thy  infant  wail ; 

For,  thou  wilt  chill  and  fade  and  die, 
If  thou  art  cradled  in  a  clime 

So  far  from  light  and  heat  and  life ; 
Then  heed  no  more  their  idle  rhyme, 

And  I  will  end  the  gentle  strife. 
Then  welcome,  etc. 


ALL  IN  CONCERT. 

Then  hail  ye  all  the  new-born  planet ! 

Hail  ye  its  fresh  and  laughing  gleam  ! 
Oh,  chase  it — toss  it — kiss  it — fan  it, 

Until  it  glows  with  full-orbed  beam  ! 
Another  prince  of  royal  line — 

A  new  apostle  with  us  eleven, 
Among  our  ranks  will  henceforth  shine, 

And  teach  to  man  the  ways  of  heaven  ! 

So  welcome,  to  our  shining  number,  etc. 


THE  KEMOVAL. 


THE  fiend  had  gone,  and  all  was  still 
In  each  affrighted  hall  and  room ; 

And  moonlight  lay  on  roof  and  hill — 
A  deathly  smile  across  the  gloom. 

A  grandame  old  had  fled — a  wound 

Her  steps  had  tracked  with  dotting  blood  •- 

Within  the  hall  a  man  had  swooned, 
And  there  a  trembling  maiden,  stood. 

She  had  escaped  the  vengeful  arm 
That  smote  a  father,  mother,  child ; 

And  there  she  leaned  in  fixed  alarm, 
And  gazed  around  in  horror  wild. 


108  THE  REMOVAL. 

A  half-hushed  cry  was  heard  alone — 
The  wailing  of  a  dying  girl 

Who  lay  where  firelight-flashes  shone 
On  lily  cheek  and  flossy  curl. 

And  were  these  all  that  filled  the  scene — 
The  living  twain,  the  dying  three  ? 

Ah,  had  we  spirit-eyes,  I  ween 
There  had  been  other  sight  to  see. 

The  gloomy  shadows  of  the  night, 

The  moonlight  cold  and  pale  and  thin, 

The  stars  above,  the  fading  light 
Of  feeble  fire  and  lamp  within — 

Had  all  been  lost  in  light  and  song — 
The  glory  of  a  hidden  world, 

And  we  had  seen  a  gathering  throng 
That  stood  with  angel-pinions  furled. 

They  stooped  above  the  child — that  host, 
And  with  them  gazed  two  others  there, 

Not  pale  and  misty  like  a  ghost, 
But  as  the  angels  bright  and  fair. 


THE  REMOVAL.  109 

They  were  the  spirits  of  the  dead, 
lu  flowing  robes  of  glistening  white, 

With  circling  haloes  round  each  head, 
And  glancing  wings  of  silver  light. 

They  watched  until  the  wailings  ceased, 
And,  flame-like  from  the  lifeless  clay, 

The  infant-spirit  was  released, 
Awakened  to  immortal  day. 

As  birds  shake  off  the  spangled  dew, 
And  greet  the  dawn  and  cheerly  sing, 

The  infant  to  its  parents  flew 
With  joyful  flutter  of  the  wing. 

Then,  hand  in  hand,  they  trod  the  air, 

And  touched  no  more  the  sanguined  floor  ; 

Nor  is  their  presence  heeded  there, 
Nor  needs  their  passage  open  door. 

A  parting  glance  at  hallowed  home 
They  cast — their  journey  then  begun, 

They  mounted  thro'  the  starry  dome, 
And  passed  the  last  resplendent  sun. 


110  THE  REMOVAL. 

Still  up  they  floated,  hand  in  hand — 

It  was  a  glorious  sight  to  see  ! 
Around  them  still  the  flaming  band, 

With  song  and  heavenly  pageantry. 

At  length,  a  glory  met  their  sight, 
That  mortal  eye  may  not  behold — 

Broad  gates  of  pearl,  and  spires  of  light, 
And  long-drawn  streets  of  lucid  gold. 

They  reached  at  last  the  inmost  space 
Where,  on  a  lofty  jasper  throne, 

Sat  ONE  from  whose  unveiled  face 

The  earth  and  heavens  may  well  have  flown. 

They  stood  amid  the  sun-like  glow — 
The  child  and  parents  in  a  band, 

And  looked  not  up  and  bowed  them  low, 
With  covered  face  and  clasping  hand. 

They  took  no  harp— no  anthem  sang, 
But  knelt  in  humble  silence  there, 

And,  (while  the  heavens  with  welcome  rang,) 
For  him  who  slew  them,  breathed  a  prayer. 


THE  ELM-SYLPH. 


A  BEAUTIFUL  elm,  with  a  maidenly  form, 
That  smiles  in  the  sunlight  and  swings  in  the  storm, 
Has  shaded  my  window  for  many  a  year, 
And  grown,  like  a  sister,  more  lovely  and  dear. 
It  whispers  me  dreams  in  the  faint  summer  days, 
And  sprinkles  my  table  with  gold-floating  rays ; 
It  sings  me  its  music  thro'  all  the  hush'd  night, 
And  shows  me  a  glimpse  of  the  stars'  stealthy  light ; 
It  curtains  the  glare  of  the  awakening  dawn, 
And  wooes  back  the  dusk  on  the  shadowy  lawn. 
Oh,  long  have  I  loved  thee,  my  Elm — gentle  Elm  ! 
Thou  standest  as  proud  as  the  queen  of  a  realm, 
And  winningly  wavest  thy  soft  leafy  arms, 
Like  a  beautiful  maid  who  is  conscious  of  charms. 
Oh,  oft  have  I  leaned  on  thy  rough-rinded  breast, 
A  nd  thought  of  it  oft  as  an  iron-like  vest — 


112  THE  ELM-SYLPH. 

No  breastplate  of  steel,  but  a  corslet  of  bark 

That  hid  the  white  limbs  of  my  Joan  of  Arc  ! 

Shout — shout  to  thy  brothers,  the  forests,  I  said, 

And  lead  out  the  trees  with  a  soldierly  tread  ; 

Thou  art  armed  to  the  head ,  and  hast  many  a  plume — 

So  marshal  the  trees,  and  avert  their  sad  doom ; 

Enroll  all  their  squadrons  and  lead  out  the  van, 

And  turn  the  swift  axe  on  your  murderer — man  ! 

But  ah, — thus  I  said  evermore, — ah,  the  trees, 

Though  they  wail  in  the  tempest  and  sing  in  the  breeze, 

Have  never  a  soul  and  are  rooted  in  earth  ! 

They  live  and  they  die  where  they  spring  into  birth ; 

The  stories  of  Dryads  are  only  a  dream, 

And  trees  are  no  more  than  they  outwardly  seem. 

One  evening  I  heard  the  low  voice  of  the  tree 
That  told  all  its  griefs  and  its  joyings  to  me  ; 
The  moon,  overspread  with  a  white  misty  veil, 
Seemed  quitting  its  grave,  like  a  spectre-face  pale  ; 
I  looked  at  the  elm,  and  I  gazed  at  the  moon — 
How  long  I  know  not — but  I  started,  as  soon 
A  smooth  little  hand,  with  a  velvet  embrace, 
Took  mine  in  its  clasp — but  I  saw  not  a  face  ; 
I  saw  but  a  hand  stealing  out  from  a  branch, 


THE  ELM-SYLPH.  113 

Whose  leaves  'gan  to  wither,  the  rough  rind  to  blanch, 

And  soon  all  the  trunk  and  the  off-shoots  to  strain — 

To  writhe  and  to  swell  like  a  serpent  in  pain — 

Or  like  the  nymph,  Daphne,  when  she  was  pursued 

And,  changed  to  a  laurel  tree,  pantingly  stood. 

An  arm — lily  arm  ! — and  a  neck — snowy  neck  ! 

And,  lo,  all  the  elm  tree  is  falling  a  wreck ; 

Like  a  butterfly's  chrysalis,  bursts  all  the  bark, 

And  forth  as  a  sylph  springs  my  Joan  of  Arc  ! 

My  heart !  how  she  struggled  and  swayed,  when  the  wind 

Blew  hither  and  thither,  aad  shrieked  like  a  fiend  : 

With  the  strong  wind  she  wrestled,  then  flew  to  my  side — 

Said  silverly,  "  Haste  with  me  ! — now  for  a  ride  ! 

O'er  the  breadth  of  a  world,  in  a  martial  array, 

The  forests  are  moving — so  up  and  away  !" 

Away  and  away  through  the  billowy  air — 

One  arm  clasped  around  me,  her  long  wavy  hair 

Streamed  back  like  a  pennon  of  silk  to  the  wind, 

As  we  left  the  still  town  and  its  glimmer  behind. 

Away  and  away  o'er  the  mountains  and  meads, 

I  darted,  upborne  by  no  magical  steeds, 

But  buoyed  by  the  hand  of  my  glorying  Elm, 

Whose  wishes  were  wings  that  no  storm  could  o'erwhelm. 


114  THE  ELM-SYLPH. 

We  paused  in  mid  air,  and  "  Look  downward  !"  she  cried, 

"  O'er  a  battle-ground,  now,  like  the  eagles,  we  ride." 

I  gazed  and  I  quailed  at  the  dizzying  height, 

Made  giddier  still  by  the  vagueness  of  night — 

But,  gathering  heart,  the  horizon  I  scanned, 

As  it  circled  about,  like  a  maelstrom  of  land  ; 

Wide — wide  as  eternity,  towered  its  bound, 

And,  deeply  below  us,  the  world  spun  around  ! 

Then  nearer  and  slower  it  wheeled  to  my  sight, 

As  we  sank  gently  down  from  the  wildering  height. 

It  ceased,  and  my  soul ! — what  a  vision  I  saw, 

As  I  looked  down  intently  with  shuddering  awe — 

The  forests  were  marching  with  far-shaking  tread, 

As  if  ages  of  men  had  been  raised  from  the  dead ; 

Interminable  armies — a  dark  moving  throng — 

Were  crossing  and  wheeling  and  pressing  along, 

And  ranks  upon  ranks  they  were  stretching  afar, 

Till  they  moved  o'er  the  face  of  a  just  setting  star. 

Down,  down  we  alighted,  the  Elm-sylph  and  I, 

On  a  mountain  that  lifted  its  bare  summit  high. 

And  why  are  yon  trees  on  these  thunder-scarr'd  rocks? 

And  why  does  the  giant  one  shake  his  wild  locks  ? 

"  'Tis  the  Emperor  Elm !"  said  the  sylph  as  she  kneeled, 


THE  ELM-SYLPH.  115 

"  And  he  marshals  the  trees  to  a  last  battle-field  1" 

I  gazed  at  the  Shape,  and  it  seemed  both  to  be 

A  warrior  king  and  a  towering  tree, 

That  strode  in  his  pride,  looking  loftily  down, 

And  royally  nodding  his  broad  leafy  crown. 

I  saw  all  his  gestures,  but  heard  not  his  words, 

As  he  gathered  around  him  his  counseling  lords  : — 

A  willow  that  bowed  with  its  courtliest  grace  ; 

A  birch  with  its  ruffles  and  silvery  lace  ; 

A  veteran  oak  and  a  tall  gallant  pine, 

Who  spoke  of  the  Danube,  the  Elbe,  and  the  Rhine  ; 

A  rough,  stalwart  hemlock ;  a  cedar  bedight 

With  helmet  and  lance,  like  a  chivalrous  knight ; 

A  chestnut  and  maple  and  sycamore  old, 

In  red  autumn  dresses,  emblazoned  with  gold. 

I  heard  their  low  murmur  and  little  beside, 

Till  the  Emperor  Elm,  with  a  hurrying  stride, 

Advanced  to  the  brink  of  the  rock's  giddy  brow, 

And  waved  his  broad  hand  to  the  forests  below. 

"  Halt ! — halt,  and  attend  ye  !"  he  shouted  aloud, 

And  a  hush  smote  along  the  tumultuous  crowd, 

Like  a  surge  circling  out  where  a  Titan  had  hurled 

An  Alp  into  seas  that  engirdle  a  world. 


116  THE  ELM-SYLPH. 

"  Halt ! — halt,  and  attend  ye,  my  gallant  array, 

And  list  to  the  words  that  I  hasten  to  say. 

No  longer  to  stand  like  insensible  mutes, 

It  is  given  us  to-night  to  unloosen  our  roots — 

To  wield  our  lithe  arms,  to  step  forth  at  our  will, 

By  valley  and  mountain,  by  river  and  rilL  • 

The  term  of  our  bondage  and  groaning  is  o'er ; 

We  start  from  our  sleep  with  tempestuous  roar, 

And  while  all  the  nations  lie  closer  and  cower, 

And  mutter  of  storms,  'tis  the  Trees'  waking  hour. 

We  fight  not  each  other,  with  man's  demon  lust, 

But  one  common  foe  let  us  trample  to  dust. 

For  men,  with  the  axe  and  the  furious  fires, 

Have  slain  us  and  lighted  our  funeral  pyres  ; 

They  have  sawn  us  asunder,  they  pile  up  our  bones, 

And  call  them  their  cities,  their  temples,  their  thrones  : 

They  drink  from  our  skulls,  or,  invoking  the  breeze, 

They  ride  in  our  skeletons  over  the  seas  ; 

They  pierce  us  with  shot,  and  they  make  of  us  wheels 

To  drag  the  hot  cannon  where  red  Battle  reels. 

Oh,  dark  are  the  traffics  we  help  them  to  wage, 

And  dark  are  the  ages  of  sorrow  and  rage  ! 

Battalions,  stand  firm  ! — for  the  dawn  breaks  afar 

That  will  startle  the  world  with  the  earthquake  of  war. 


THE  ELM-SYLPH.  117 

Await  ye  the  watchword — then  pass  it  around, 

Till  the  rim  of  the  heavens  bend  aside  at  the  sound  ; 

Keep  close  in  your  ranks,  every  squadron  and  square, 

Then  rush  like  the  whirlwinds  ingulfing  the  air, 

On  cities  and  palaces  fearlessly  fall, 

And  leave  not  a  roof  or  a  man  of  them  all. 

Oh  rich  is  the  blood  that  shall  deluge  the  earth, 

And  sweeten  the  soil  that  has  nursed  us  to  birth  !" 

He  ceased.     Like  the  roar  of  the  triumphing  sea, 

When  it  surges  aloud  on  a  far  distant  lee, 

He-echoed  applauses  ran  sounding  away 

Wherever  the  listening  wilderness  lay. 

The  Elm-spirit  rocked  on  the  shuddering  air, 

That  loosened  and  lifted  her  beautiful  hair, 

As  she  clung  to  my  arm,  and  extended  her  hand 

Where  circled  the  billowy  ocean  of  land. 

I  looked,  and  the  daylight  was  brightening  the  scene, 

And  changing  the  landscape  from  duskness  to  green ; 

The  forests  seemed  watching  with  myriad  eyes, 

Awaiting  the  war-cry  to  shout  and  to  rise  ;— - 

A  flush  on  the  hills  and  a  flash,  on  the  streams, 

And  the  sun  has  arisen  with  far-slanting  beams  ! 

"  Advance  !"  and  "  Advance  !"  is  the  shout  in  the  air, 

And  thousands  of  scimitars  mingle  their  glare ; 


118  THE  ELM-SYLPH. 

The  Imperial  Elm — lo,  he  leaps  from  the  rock  ! — 
The  forests  are  stepping  with  deafening  shock — 
A  sentinel  aspen  has  tremblingly  fled — 
Dense  volumes  of  dust  to  the  zenith  are  spread. 
Ho  ! — ho  ! — what  a  drumming  of  wings  in  the  air, 
What  a  howling  of  beasts  from  their  down-trampled  lair, 
What  a  screaming  of  birds  as  they  hurry  away — 
"  No  need  of  the  gong  and  the  trumpet  to-day  ! 

On,  on  rush  the  forests  in  dust-rolling  gloom, 
'  Like  a  gathering  universe  summoned  to  doom  ; 

My  Soul ! — they  are  climbing  this  mount's  dizzy  height — 

Save — crush  me,  ye  rocks,  from  the  terrible  sight ! 

****** 

My  storm-riven  Elm  tree  ! — ah  !  little  I  deemed 
Thou  wert  slain  by  my  side  as  I  heedlessly  dreamed. 


THE  ICEBERG. 


WE  saw  it  in  the  dawning  light — 
A  crystal  mountain,  dim  and  vast, 

That  rose  abruptly  thrice  the  height 
Of  any  gallant  vessel's  mast ; 

And  far  away,  on  either  hand, 

It  slept,  a  pale  and  shadowy  land. 

The  surf  was  dashing  at  its  base, 
And  all  its  sun-tipt  summits  sent 

Their  rillets  foaming  down  its  face ; 
It  seemed  a  floating  continent 

That,  broken  from  the  arctic  world, 

To  warmer  zones  the  tides  had  whirled. 


120  THE  ICEBERG. 

The  sun  arose  ;  the  precipice 

Blazed  forth  in  lights  of  every  hue, 

Like  shivered  rainbows  in  the  ice — 
The  clearest  green,  the  brightest  blue, 

Pure  amber,  purple,  ruddy  gold, 

And  silver  spires,  serene  and  cold. 

Unnumbered  forms  of  beauty  rare, 

Pale  moons  and  meteors,  suns  and  stars, 

And  jewels  such  as  sultans  wear, 

Seemed  prisoned  in  with  brazen  bars, 

Or  as  a  thousand  crystal  halls 

Were  set  for  royal  festivals. 

We  gazed  until  the  glowing  ice, 

So  clear  and  high,  so  bright  and  broad, 

Grew  like  a  dream  of  Paradise — 
The  New  Jerusalem  of  God, 

That,  fairer  than  the  clouds  of  even, 

Was  seen  descending  out  of  heaven. 

The  gates  of  solid  pearl  were  there ; 

The  glassy  streets,  the  polished  walls, 
Were  glistening  in  the  morning  air, 


THE  ICEBEKG. 

As  if  with  precious  minerals — 
With  jasper,  sapphire,  emerald, 
Too  dazzling  bright  to  be  beheld. 

Around  the  spires,  the  wreathing  mist 
Seemed  angel-forms  that  flew  or  walked 

On  battlements  of  amethyst, 

And  there  in  sweet  communion  talked, 

While  we  below  were  souls  that  wait 

To  enter  through  the  glorious  gate.  * 

Alas,  that  with  so  heavenly  dreams, 
A  thought  of  terror  now  should  come  ; 

The  mount  that  thus  in  beauty  beams, 
To  sudden  death  our  lives  doom — 

May  whirl  itself  with  fearful  force, 

And  sink  the  ship  that  dares  its  course. 


AURORA. 


THERE  was  a  goddess  of  the  ancient  time, 

Who,  every  morning,  in  a  saffron  robe, 
Was  wont,  from  ocean's  brim,  the  sky  to  climb, 

And  in  her  rosy  car  speed  round  the  globe  ; 
Her  steeds  were  snowy  white  or  flaming  red  ; 

Around  her  twined  and  danced  the  lovely  Hours ; 
A  flying  Cupid  waved  his  torch  o'erhead, 

And  all  the  way  she  scattered  dewy  flowers. 

From  out  the  dawning  east  she  ever  came, 
Pursuing  swift  the  starry-mantled  Night ; 

She  heralded  Apollo's  wheels  of  flame, 
And  flung  apart  the  blazing  gates  of  light. 

She  was  not  seen  of  men,  but  in  those  days 
When  fancies  pure  and  beautiful  were  born, 


AURORA.  123 

The  virgin  daybreak,  with  its  blushing  rays, 
Was  named  Aurora — we  but  call  it  Morn. 

There  was,  long  since,  a  tribe  of  dark-brow'd  men, 
Whose  fires  were  lit  along  an  inland  lake  ; 

They  walked  the  lords  of  mountain,  vale  and  glen, 
And  o'er  the  waters  traced  the  silver  wake, 

Or  sped  in  light  canoes  before  the  storms ; 

• 

They  passed  away  as  silent  as  they  came, 
But  though  no  more  are  seen  their  gallant  forms, 
The  brave  Auroras  still  are  known  to  fame. 

There  is,  by  that  same  lake,  a  village  now, 

That  lines  the  shore  where  broadest  lie  the  waters ; 
Nor  does  the  wide  young  Western  Empire  know 

More  noble  sons  than  here,  nor  lovelier  daughters  ; 
The  shaded  streets  look  out  upon  the  lake, 

And  deep  embowered  gardens  stoop  to  drink 
The  waves  that  evermore  in  splendor  break, 

Or,  hushed  to  rest,  in  glassy  silence  sink. 

Two  shallops  anchor  yonder,  side  by  side, — 

The  "  Ellen  Douglas"  and  the  •'  Water-Sprite"— 
Fit  emblems  of  Undine  and  Malcolm's  bride ; 


124  AURORA. 

Two  steamers  rush  upon  their  foamy  flight ; 
A  spire  and  fifty  lindens  point  to  heaven, — 

A  famed  academy  beneath  their  giant  shade, 
As  if  to  them,  like  warriors,  it  were  given 

To  guard  the  land  with  lifted  spear  and  blade. 

And  there  are  waterfalls  and  singing  streams 
Deep  hidden  in  the  hills,  and  sycamores 

Along  the  pebbled  beach,  and  sunset  gleams 
Far  mirrored  from  the  purple  western  shores, 

And  white-wing'd  boats,  and  many  a  moonlight  sail, 
Regattas,  rides,  and  Festivals  of  Flora — 

A  thousand  charms  that  would  adorn  a  tale 
.  If  laid  among  thy  quiet  scenes,  AURORA. 

Oh,  rosy-blushing  herald  of  the  morn, 

Who,  o'er  the  hills,  salutes  Cayuga's  wave  ! 
Ob,  dark-brow'd  spirits  on  the  night  winds  borne, 

If  yet  there  linger  phantoms  of  the  brave  ! — 
Say  !  is  there  in  this  round  and  blooming  sphere, 

A  sweeter  spot  to  dream  a  life  away, 
Than  where  among  the  trees  is  braided  here 

The  gem-like  namesake  of  the  dawning  Day  ? 


WELL'S  FALLS. 


BEHOLD  the  flashing  waterfall ! 
The  rocks  are  bathed  in  sunset's  beam, 

The  waters,  like  the  syrens,  call, 
And  spirit-like  they  coldly  gleam — 
The  misty-mantled  naiads  of  the  stream, 

Now  loud  and  full  the  cascades  roar, 
Now  low  and  soft  they  seem  to  sing, 

As  when  the  wildwood  warblers  pour 
Their  music  in  the  ear  of  Spring, 
And  make  the  vocal  forests  wildly  ring. 

But  fairer  than  the  spirit-shapes 
That  fancy  conjures  from  the  spray, 


126  WELL'S  FALLS. 

And  with  its  jeweled  vapor  drapes, 
Are  those  who  gaze  with  me  to-day — 
The  votaries  that  here  their  worship  pay. 

And  sweeter  than  the  dreamy  sound 
That  trembles  in  the  waterfall, 

And  echoes  from  the  rocks  around- 
More  sweet  than  Nature's  voices  all 
Are  those  that  to  the  woods  and  waters  call. 

The  trees,  the  skies,  the  clouds  are  fair, 
And  beautiful  this  woodland  bower — 

Its  lulling  tones  and  cooling  air ; 
But  lovelier  than  stream  or  flower, 
Are  those  who  share  with  me  this  happy  hour. 


CONDOLENCE. 


SAY  not  thy  soul  is  crushed,  my  friend, 

Or  that  thy  dreams  of  happiness, 
At  manhood's  dawn,  have  found  an  end 

In  gloom  and  tears  and  grief's  excess ; 
Fly  not  to  yonder  new-made  grave, 

Where  lies  the  loved  and  crumbling  clay, 
For,  tears  nor  prayers  can  ever  save 

A  cherished  form  from  swift  decay. 

But  little  that  could  once  rejoice 
Is  buried  in  the  hungry  tomb  j 

It  holds  no  music  of  her  voice — 
No  youthful  warmth  and  bloom  ; 

It  holds  no  sparkle  of  her  eye, 
No  beaming  virtues  of  her  mind, 


128  CONDOLENCE. 

No  winning  tone  or  parting  sigh, 
No  thrilling  step  or  greetings  kind. 

The  heavenly  graces  of  her  soul — 

All  that  is  spiritual  and  pure 
Hath  reached  its  bright,  eternal  goal, 

And  will  forever  there  endure  ; 
All  human  charms  and  sympathies — 

All  that  the  loved  can  here  impart, 
Are  shrined  within  our  memories, 

And  live  in  many  a  living  heart. 


Then  mourn  no  more  the  spirit  flown 

To  meet  the  welcome  of  its  God  ; 
Her  visioned  form  shall  aye  look  down, 

By  night  and  day,  at  home,  abroad, 
To  guard  thy  steps  and  bless  thy  dreams  ; 

The  sacred  memory  of  the  dead 
Is  like  a  pillared  light  that  beams 

A  moving  glory  high  o'erhead. 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  DEAD. 


Go  forth,  and  breathe  the  purer  air,  with  me, 

And  leave  the  city's  sounding  streets  ; 
There  is  another  city,  sweet  to  see, 

Whose  heart  with  no  delirium  beats ; 
The  solid  earth  beneath  it  never  feels 

The  dance  of  joy,  the  rush  of  care, 
The  jar  of  toil,  the  mingled  roll  of  wheels  ; 

But  all  in  peace  and  beauty  there. 

No  spacious  mansions  stand  in  stately  rows 

Along  that  city's  silent  ways ; 
No  lofty  wall,  nor  level  pavement,  glows, 

Unshaded  from  the  summer  rays ; 
No  costly  merchandise  is  heaped  around, 

Nor  pictures  stay  the  passer  by, 


130  THE  CITY  OF  THE  DEAD. 

Nor  plumed  soldiers  march  to  music's  sound, 
Nor'toys  and  trifles  tire  the  eye. 

The  narrow  streets  are  fringed  with  living  green, 

And  weave  about  in  mazes  there  ; 
The  many  hills  bewilder  all  the  scene, 

And  shadows  veil  the  noonday  glare. 
No  clanging  bells  ring  out  the  fleeting  hours, 
.    Bet  sunlight  glimmers  softly  thro', 
And  marks  the  voiceless  time  in  golden  showers 
On  velvet  *-.irf  and  lakelets  blue. 

The  palaces  are  sculptured  shafts  of  stone 

That  gleam  in  beauty  thro'  the  trees  ; 
The  cottages  are  mounds  with"  flowers  o'ergrown  ; 

No  princely  church  the  stranger  sees, 
But  all  the  grove  its  pointed  arches  rears, 

And  tinted  lights  shine  &*>'  4he  trees,  t/tv 
And  prayers  are  rained  in  every  mourner's  tears 

Who  for  the  dead  in  silence  grieves. 

And  when  dark  night  descends  upon  the  tombs, 

No  reveler's  song,  nor  watchman's  voice 
Is  here ;  no  music  comes  from  lighted  rooms 


THE  CITY  OF  THE  DEAD.  131 

Where  swift  feet  fly  and  hearts  rejoice  ; 
'Tis  darkness,  silence  all ;  no  sound  is  heard 

Except  the  wind  that  sinks  and  swells, 
The  lonely  whistle  of  the  midnight  bird, 

And  brooks  that  ring  their  crystal  bells. 
« 

A  city  strange  and  still ! — its  habitants 

Are  warmly  housed,  yet  they  are  poor — 
Are  poor,  yet  have  no  wish,  nor  woes  and  wants ; 

The  broken  heart  is  crushed  no  more, 
No  love  is  interchanged,  nor  bought  and  sold, 

Ambition  sleeps,  the  innocent 
Are  safe,  the  miser  counts  no  more  his  gold, 

But  rests  at  last  and  is  content. 
• 

A  city  strange  and  sweet ! — its  dwellers  sleep 

At  dawn,  and  in  meridian  light, — 
At  sunset  still  they  dream  in  slumber  deep, 

•Nor  wake  they  in  the  weary  night ; 
And  none  of  them  shall  feel  the  hero's  kiss 

On  Sleeping  Beauty's  lip  that  fell, 
And  woke  a  palace  from  a  trance  of  bliss 

That  long  had  bound  it  by  a  spell. 


132  THE  CIT5T  OF  THE  DEAD. OMENS. 

A  city  strange  and  sad  ! — we  walk  the  grounds, 

Or  seek  some  mount,  and  see  afar 
The  living  cities  shine,  and  list  the  sounds 

Of  throbbing  boat  and  thundering  car. 
And  ice  may  go  ;  but  all  the  dwellers  here, 

In  autumn's  blush,  in  winter's  snow,  • 

In  spring  and  summer's  bloom,  from  year  to  year, 

They  ever  come,  and  never  go  ! 


OMENS. 


THIS,  Harrietta,  is  your  wedding  morning, 

And  may  your  hopes  be  ever  bright 
As  are  the  iris  hues  the  trees  adorning, 

But,  unlike  them,  without  a  blight ; 
And,  freely  as  the  autumn  skies  are  weeping, 

May  blessings  greet  you  from  on  high  ; 
And,  idly  as  the  sounding  winds  are  sweeping, 

May  ills  and  sorrows  pass  you  by. 


OH,  if  'tis  wisdom  not  to  love 

Where  love  responsive  meets  us  never, 
The  folly  I  will  yet  approve — 

To  love  the  loveliest  forever. 

The  heart  can  never  be  directed ; 

But  one  our  Fancy's  want  can  fill ; 
And  if  for  this  I  be  rejected, 

For  this  same  reason  love  I  still. 

Nor  do  I  place  my  heart  too  high, 
While  to  myself  I  yet  am  true  ; 

My  worthiness  who  will  deny, 
Since  I  can  love  no  one  but  you  ? 


IMITATIONS. 


FLORALIE. 

A  PORTRAIT  PROM  LIFE,  IN  TENNYSON*S  TINTS. 


LOFTY  little  Floralie, 

Dimpled,  dazzling  Floralie, 
Throned  within  my  inmost  heart, 
There  thou  shalt  be  as  thou  art, 

My  soul-enfolded,  pure  ideal. 
Ever  present  to  my  thought, 

Mine  eyes  shall  wake  and  closo 
On  thy  image,  though  unsought. 

Fadeless,  changeless,  still  it  glows- — 
Still  it  sparkles,  dimples,  dances, 
In  my  waking,  sleeping  fancies, 

As  if  no  phantom,  it  were  real. 
I  cannot  clasp  nor  follow  it, 
For,  like  thyself,  'twill  ever  flit 


138  FLORALIE. 

With  a  far  off  gooddess-grace, 
With  chaining,  yet  forbidding  eye ; 
I  bless,  I  ban  that  little  face, 

• 

Floating  ever  in  airy  space ; 
I  frown  and  mutter,  sniile  and  sigh. 
Four  years  I  saw  thee  budding, 
From  a  tiny,  romping  girl, 
With  dancing  eye  and  careless  curl, 
Darting  off  with  sudden  whirl, 
Half  in  glee,  and  half  surprise, 
When  I  praised  thy  jetty  eyes ; 
I  saw  four  summers  flooding 
Thine  eyes  with  love  and  light, 
Until  they  seemed, 
So  full  they  beamed, 
Like  drops  of  dreamy  darkness,  right 
From  the  very  heart  of  night, — 
Each  tipt  and  burning  with  a  bright 

And  glorious  star.     I  saw  thy  form 
Eound  into  rosy  loveliness — 

Each  wavy  outline,  full  and  warm, 
Of  thine  ivory  neck  and  arm, 
Filling  as  fills  the  maiden  moon, 
Ere  maketh  she  the  night  as  noon ; 


FLORALIE.  139 

Each  long  and  sunny  chesnut  tress, 
'Neath  which  thy  girlish  glances  shot, 
Now  gathered  in  a  Grecian  knot 
Demure  and  simple.     Yet  no  look 

Of  nun-like  meekness  didst  thou  wear  ; 
For  still  the  dimples  of  thy  cheek 

Danced  in  and  out  with  roguish  leer, 
As  if  a  playing  hide  and  seek ; 
And  while  they  danced  thou  wouldst  not  brook 
The  liberty  their  beckoning  gave ; 
For  thou  recoiledst  proudly  grave, 
Burying  thy  softly-moulded  chin 
In  thy  cushioned,  haughty  throat, 

That,  curving  lightly  downward,  bid  begin 
To  bud  into  a  second  cherub-chin. 
And  ever  from  thy  liquid  eyes, 
Like  sunlit  rain  from  summer  skies, 
Or  gushings  from  a  crystal  well, 
Soul-sparkles  overflowed  and  fell ; 
And  ever  from  thy  rose-lips  musical, 
A  silver  eloquence  would  slide. 
0  thou  so  beautiful  and  wise  1 — 
A  very  sage  in  fairy-guise, 

So  full  of  gentleness  and  pride — 


140  FLOaALIE. 

The  holy  pride  of  loveliness ; 
'T  would  seem  that  wayward  Nature  tried 

How  much  of  beauty  she  might  press, 
How  much  of  intellect  and  grace, 
In  how  little,  charming  space. 
Blest  be  the  air  thou  dost  displace, — 

Or  movest  not ;  for  not  of  earth, 
But  all  of  heaven  and  all  divine, 

Thou  canst  not  turn  from  dust  to  dust, 
But,  cloud  dissolved  to  cloud,  thou  must 

Exhale  to  skies  that  gave  thee  birth. 
I  would  not,  could  I,  call  thee  mine, 
Nor  wed  thee, — nay  I  would  not  trust 
To  see  thee  with  these  tranced  eyes 
Steeped  deep  in  melting  memories, 
Lest  it  should  break  the  dreamy  charm 
That  lingers  in  thy  flitting  form, — 
Lest  the  living,  breathing  Heal 
Shatter  the  statue-like  Ideal, 
That,  shrined  within  my  early  heart, 
Has  gathered  to  itself  a  part 
Of  every  ripening  fancy,  till 
A  shadowy  glory,  warm  and  still, 
Doth  all  my  silent  spirit  fill. 


THE  LONE  ISLAND. 

(IS  THE  MOORISH  STYLE.) 


WHEN  creation  was  finished,  and  man  trod  the  earth, 

But  one  thing  was  wanting  to  gladden  the  scene, 
And  woman  then  bloomed  into  beautiful  birth, 

With  her  soul-flashing  eye  and  majestical  mien  ; 
And  thus,  fair  Cayuga,  when  thy  sparkling  sheet 

Was  fashioned  the  lovliest  lake  of  the  West, 
Ere  thy  beauty  transcendent  was  wholly  complete, 

One  island  was  added  to  jewel  thy  breast. 


i 


A  lone  little  islet,  all  tangled  and  wild, 

With  a  few  drooping  trees  for  its  natural  dress, 

It  is  lulled  by  the  waves  like  a  slumbering  child, 
Or  is  lapt  in  the  calm  of  the  water's  caress ; 

It  smiles  in  the  sunshine,  and  moans  in  the  storm, 


142  THE  LONE  ISLAND. 

Now  mirror'd  in  stillness,  now  crested  with  foam, 
It  looms  in  the  tempest,  a  'phantom-ship's  form, 
And  sleeps  in  the  starlight,  a  syren's  sweet  home. 

Here  the  carolling  bird,  from  a  sunnier  shore, 

Now  builds  undisturbed  her  cool  summer  nest, 
While  here  in  the  winter,  their  wanderings  o'er, 

The  wearied  waterfowl  safely  may  rest ; 
And  here  we  might  fancy  that  many  a  band 

Of  silken-wing'd  fairies  inhabit  the  bowers, 
And  launch  their  frail  shells  on  the  smooth  silver  sand, 

Or  dance  in  the  moonlight  and  sleep  in  the  flowers. 

The  goal  of  the  swimmer — the  bold  Indian  youth 

Here  breathed  and  hallooed  in  his  joy  of  the  feat, 
Or  silently  thought  how  he  plighted  his  truth 

To  his  moccasin'd  maid  in  this  quiet  retreat ; 
The  near  circling  shore  the  old  warrior  once  sought, 

When  the  waters  were  still  and  the  breezes  were  bland, 
And  musing  alone  of  the  beauty,  he  thought 

Of  the  happier  isles  of  the  far  spirit-land. 

The  Past  with  its  memories  hallows  the  spot, 
And  dreams  of  the  Future  are  hovering  o'er ; 


THE  LONE  ISLAND.  143 

Perhaps  it  may  nestle  a  fisherman's  cot, 

With  its  blue  curling  smoke,  and  the  nets  on  the 

shore ; 
Or  pleasure  may  choose  this  secluded  retreat, 

And  build  up  a  temple  of  classic  design — 
There  to  lounge  in  the  hour  of  meridian  heat, 

Or  revel  with  festival,  music  and  wine. 

Lone  Isle  !  may  thy  beauty  unchangingly  rest 

In  its  negligent  grace  as  the  years  wander  by — 
As  proud  as  the  gem  on  nobility's  breast — 

'As  fair  as  a  star  when  alone  in  the  sky ;' 
And  though  thou  art  barren  to  seekers  of  gain, 

With  no  hidden  treasures  of  ill-gotten  pelf, 
Thou  teachest  that  nought  was  created  in  vain, 

And  that  Beauty  has  value  enough  in  itself. 


TAGHCANIC  FALLS. 


YE  bards  and  travelers !     Oh  talk  no  more 

Of  Scotland's  highland  crags  and  lyns  and  lakes, 

Nor  tell  us  how  the  waters  at  Lodore 

Come  down,  nor  how  the  Rhine  in  fury  breaks, 

Nor  how  at  Reichenbach  the  torrents  pour, 
And  all  the  solid  ground  at  Staubach  shakes ; 

I  care  no  more  for  these,  nor  sigh  to  see 

The  Falls  of  Terni  and  of  Tivoli. 

I've  read  enough  of  these,  and  seen  Niagara, 
Which  is  the  king  of  cataracts  forever, 

And  i£<  certainly  a  sight  to  stagger  a 

Poor  poet's  or  a  painter's  best  endeavor  ; 

And  other  Falls  I've  seen,  but  such  a  crag  or  a 
Remarkable  cascade  beheld  I  never 


TAGUCANIO  FALLS.  145 

As  that  which  gave  me  quite  a  poet's  panic 
When  late  I  gazed  upon  our  own  Taghcanic. 

It  lies  about.  (I  like  to  be  particular) 

One  mile  from  Lake  Cayuga's  western  shore ; 

On  either  side  the  rocks  rise  perpendicular 

Three  hundred  thirty  feet  and  something  more, 

And  all  the  stream  diffused  in  drops  orbicular, 
Descends  in  wreaths  and  falling  mists  that  pour 

Two  hundred  feet  and  ten,  or  nearly  so, 

Before  they  form  again  the  stream  below. 

A  friend  of  mine,  as  sweet  as  any  nun, 
Yet  not  as  solemn,  thought  it  like  a  barrel 

Of  falling  flour,  and  so  would  any  one  ; 
But  I  remember  nothing  so  nonpareil 

As  the  figure  used  by  Alfred  Tennyson, 

Who  "dangling  water-smoke"  does  not  compare  ill 

To  "  broken  purposes  that  waste  in  air" — 

Look  in  his  "  Princess,"  and  you'll  find  it  there. 

A  tourist,  in  his  famous  Alpine  travels, 

In  speaking  of  a  like  cascade  and  glen, 
Some  very  striking  moral  truth  unravels 

7 


146  TAGHCANIC  FALLS. 

Concerning  streams  diffused  in  air,  and  then 
Once  more  collected ;  but  I  think  lhat  cavils 

Are  justly  interposed  by  critics,  when 
One  tries  to  turn  all  beauty  to  utility, 
No  matter  with  how  much  confest  ability. 

I  better  like  the  thought  of  one  whose  look 
At  this  surpassing  wide  and  deep  abyss, 

Led  him  to  ask  how  great  a  spoon  it  took 

When  Madam  Nature  scooped  a  gulf  like  this  ; 

Indeed,  'tis  very  hard  to  think  a  brook, 
Though  it  for  ages  roar  and  foam  and  hiss, 

And  wear  and  tear  with  all  its  mad-cat  strength, 

Could  scratch  so  deep  a  chasm  a  mile  in  length. 

But  these  are  thoughts  unworthy  of  the  theme, 
Or,  as  the  rhetoricians,  term  it — bathos  ; 

And  so  I'll  get  up  inspiration's  steam, 
And  try  my  hand  at  poetry  and  pathos ; 

For  it  is  pleasantcr  to  weave  a  dream 

Than  in  a  jest  to  throw  one's  time  away  thus ; 

The  Falls  I  therefore  will  apostrophize 

In  metaphors  proportioned  to  their  size- 


TAGHCANIC  FALLS.  147 

I  hardly  like  it — this  poetic  way 

Of  calling  on  the  deep  blue  sea  to  roll, 
And  urging  cataracts  no  more  to  stay, 

'And  recommending  stars  to  shine,  is  droll, — 
As  if  they  would  the  voice  of  man  obey — 
As  if  the  rocks  and  waters  have  a  soul ; 
But  since  it  is  the  custom  I  will  try 
A  verse  or  two  of  such  sublimity. 

Roll  on,  Taghcanic's  wild  and  shouting  stream ! 

Here  darkly  winding  in  thy  gloomy  deeps, 
And  there  reflecting  back  the  sunny  gleam 

That  slants  athwart  the  cliffs  and  dizzy  steeps ; 
As  wild  and  varied  thou,  as  is  the  dream 

That  hovers  o'er  the  couch  where  Beauty  sleeps— 
As  wild  and  fearless  thou  as  those  whose  claim 
To  this  our  land  first  gave  to  thee  thy  name. 

'Tis  sweet  to  look  on  thee  when  summer's  morn 
Hath  touched  thy  lordly  battlements  with  gold, 

And  when  the  mists  that  of  the  night  are  born, 
In  rosy  wreaths  and  clouds  are  upward  roll'd ; 

'Tis  sweet  to  see  thy  walls,  with  ruin  worn, 
O'erhung  with  fragrant  pines  and  gray  with  mould, 


148  TAGHCANIC  FALLS.  » 

All  silvered  with  the  moon-beams  cold  and  white, 
Or  blushing  in  the  torches'  ruddy  light. 

Thine  amphitheatre,  ascending  wide, 
Calls  up  a  vision  of  the  storied  Past — 

The  chariots  coursing  swiftly,  side  by  side, 
Within  the  Coliseum's  circle  vast, 

The  gladiator  who  in  silence  died, 

The  shower'of  garlands  on  the  victor  cast, 

The  deadly  stroke — the  shout — the  cruel  throng — 

I  gladly  turn  from  thoughts  of  death  and  wrong. 

-  % 

I  love  to  think  that  in  thy  rocky  walls, 

Where  stands  the  strangely  perfect  gothic  door, 

The  genii  have  reared  their  magic  halls, 
With  crystal  column  and  with  pearly  floor, 

And  fountains  where  the  tinkling  water  falls, 
And  arching  roofs  with  jewels  studded  o'er — 

A  mystic  realm  in  secret  silence  bound, 

Until  the  spell  to  open  it  is  found. 

I  love  to  think  that  flitting  fay  and  elf 

Are  hidden  in  thy  darkling  nooks  and  dells, 
Or  that,  beneath  the  cascade's  jutting  shelf, 


TAGHCANIC  FALLS.  149 

A  spirit,  matchless  in  her  beauty,  dwells, 
And  wraps  those  misty  robes  about  herself, 

And  ever  sings  and  weaves  her  wondrous  spells, 
Until  revealed  at  some  fond  dreamer's  call — 
The  lovely  Undine  of  the  waterfall ! 

What  else  I  choose  to  dream  is  my  affair ; 

It  is  a  very  wild  and  lonely  scene, 
And  has  a  picturesque  and  noble  air 

With  all  its  foam  and  rocks  and  forests  green  ; 
Nor  is  it  probable  that  many  care 

For  it,  except  to  say  they  have  been  there ; 
And  doubtless,  quite  as  honestly  as  Pickwick, 
They'll  tell  you — 'tis  a  nice  place  for  a  pic-nic. 


PROSE-POEMS. 


NEW  WONDERS 

OP    THE    MAMMOTH    CAVE. 


As  a  full  account  of  the  astonishing  discoveries,  now 
first  announced,  is  to  appear  in  a  scientific  journal,  from 
the  abler  pen  of  the  discoverer — Prof.  Biglie,  (who  should 
not  be  confounded  with  Prof.  Liebig)  a  hasty  sketch  only 
is  at  present  offered,  in  order  to  call  attention  to  the  facts, 
and  prepare  the  public  mind  for  them.  The  substance  of 
the  discovery  is,  the  existence  of  a  race  of  winged  and 
scaly  men,  (named  by  Prof.  B.  the  ANTHROPOPTERA,  from 
anthropos — man,  and  pteron — wing)  together  with  a 
semi-civilized  society,  republics  and  kingdoms — in  short, 
a  busy  continent  beneath  the  one  we  tread  upon.  The 
reasons  for  suppressing  every  breath  of  the  news,  will  be 
intimated  in  the  course  of  this  sketch. 

To  throw  the  brief  account  into  a  connected  form,  I  may 
state  that  Prof.  B.,  the  guide — "  Stephen,"  and  myself, 
composed  a  party  that,  in  four  days  beginning  with 

7* 


154  NEW  WONDEKS  OF  TUB  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

V 

September    10th.,    1849,   visited    nearly  every   avenue 
and  nook  of  the  Mammoth  Cave  of  Kentucky — Gorin's 
dome,  the    Park    room,    Indian    avenue,    Blue    Spring 
branch,  Maclure's  path,  Merriam's  avenue,  Cleaveland's 
cabinet,   Serena's  arbor,    etc.     On    the  evening  of  the 
fourth  day,   Sept.  12th,  we  were  returning  to  the  Main 
avenue,  when  the  fancy  took  us  to  make  a  second  and  last 
tour  of  the  splendid  Gothic  avenue,  and  the  subterranean 
scenery  to  which  it  leads.     We  had  followed  one  of  the 
Low  Branches  .nearly  to  its  termination;  Prof.  B.  had 
loitered  in  the  rear;  the  guide  and  myself  were  retracing 
our  steps  ;  but  had  not  quite  reached  Bonaparte's  dome, 
when  we  heard  the  Professor,  from  the  darkness  near  us, 
calling  out  "Stop! — here  ! — here  !  "     We  turned,  and 
saw  a  pit  on  the  left  side  of  the  cave,  illumined  with  his 
torch,  and  himself  scrambling  to  the  surface.     With  signs 
of  extreme  agitation,  he  urged  us  to  follow  him,  saying 
that  he  had  heard  strange  noises.     We  let  ourselves  down 
to  a  depth  of  six  feet,  into  the  pit,  which  is  about  the  same 
measure  in  diameter ;    finding   foot-place,    we   followed 
Prof.  B.  down  the    cavern,  which  then  inclined  at  an 
angle  of  forty-five  degrees,  and  continued  in   the   same 
general  direction  for  two  hundred  yards,  where  it  turned 
abruptly  to  the  left.     Here  the  Professor  motioned  us  to 
be  silent,  and  pointed  forward  where,  within  four  feet  of 
us,  the  tunnel  was  completely  closed  up  by  a  curtain  of 
stalactite.     We  listened,  and  to  our  utter  amazement,  dis 
tinctly  heard  voices  beyond,  conversing  in  a  thin,    sharp 
tone,  and  in  an  unknown  language  !     Soon  our  wonder 


NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  155 

/ 

was  heightened  to  terror  by  the  sound  of  heavy  pounding 
and  the  splashing  of  water,  mingled  with  the  most  un 
earthly  shrieks  and  laughter.  As  we  involuntarily  turned 
away,  the  Professor  suddenly  noticed,  and  called  our  at 
tention  to  the  fact,  that  the  obstructing  curtain  of  stalactite 
was  thin  and  translucent,  and  dimly  shining  with  a  pale 
light  from  beyond  it.  This  had  been  before  unnoticed  in 
the  glare  of  our  torches. 

We  now  returned  to  Bonaparte's  donae,  and  held  a 
consultation.  The  result  of  it  was  that,  in  ten  days  there 
after,  we  had  procured,  with  the  utmost  secrecy,  an  iron, 
door  from  the  foundery  of  the  Messrs.  A.,  of  Louisville, 
by  way  of  the  Ohio  and  Green  rivers.  The  iron  door  has 
a  window  of  close  and  strong  grating,  and  a  frame  so 
shaped  as  just  to  fit  a  carefully  measured  section  of  the 
cavern,  within  a  foot  of  the  place  where  then  stood  the 
above  mentioned  curtain.  The  frame  was  also  constructed 
with  heavy  hinges,  so  that  it  could  be  folded  up  and  easily 
carried  into  the  narrow  tunnel,  the  door  itself  being 
sufficiently  small. 

Five  stout  workmen  were  next  enlisted  and  pledged  to 
secrecy ;  a  storehouse  car  was  rudely  built ;  and,  on  the 
night  of  the  24th,  the  iron  door,  together  with  drilling 
tools,  crow-bars,  and  knives  and  pistols,  transported  into 
the  cave,  some  two  miles  and  a  half  to  the  scene  of  opera 
tions.  We  arrived  there,  after  two  hours  of  hard  labor ; 
the  same  wonderful  sounds  were  heard ;  and,  lest  the  par 
ty  of  robbers  (as  we  suspected  them  to  be)  might  break 
through  the  natural  screen,  on  hearing  the  sound  of  our 


156  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

work,  a  pistol  was  fired  as  a  challenge.  Instantly,  a  com 
bined  shriek,  as  of  a  hundred  apes,  was  heard,  and  the 
sound  of  retreating  footsteps ;  then  all  was  still.  In  two 
hours  more,  we  had  drilled  holes  for  the  iron  pins  that 
were  to  fasten  the  frame  to  its  place  ;  and  soon  the  work 
was  done,  and  the  door  locked.  It  should  be  mentioned 
that  a  pistol  was  fired  by  us,  at  intervals  during  the  pro 
cess,  and  that  several  times  the  same  retreating  sounds 
were  discernible,  but  without  the  cries  of  terror ;  also, 
that  soon  after  the  first  discharge,  the  sound  of  a  seemingly 
distant  bell,  rapidly  tolled,  continued  for  at  least  fifteen, 
minutes. 

The  Professor  now  assumed  the  honor  of  breaking 
through  the  calcareous  partition,  and  revealing  the  myste 
ries  beyond.  A  crow-bar  was  passed  through  the  grating 
of  the  door,  and,  with  one  blow,  half  of  the  beautiful 
Bcreen  was  shivered  to  fragments.  How  shall  one  des 
cribe  our  speechless  surprise  at  the  scene  disclosed  ? 
Crowding  to  the  window,  we  beheld  a  magnificent  cavern, 
of  great  height  and  width,  lined  with  beautiful  spars,  illu 
mined  with  a  pale  light  like  that  of  the  moon,  and,  most 
astounding  of  all,  filled  with  the  vanishing  forms  of  crea 
tures  that  looked  like  white  dragons,  flying  in  the  air,  and 
and  running  swiftly  on  the  ground,  while  their  shrill, 
treble  cries  pierced  our  ears !  They  soon  disappeared, 
and  our  party,  well  armed,  entered  tho  hall,  one  man  be 
ing  left  as  door-keeper. 

We  found  the  cavern,  in  its  general  features,  much 
like  the  well-known  Gothic  avenue,  and  with  a  large  pool 


NEW  WONDEBS  OP  THE  MAMMOTH  CA.VE.  157 

of  water  near  the  entrance.  Passing  on,  at  our  approach 
the  strange  beings,  some  distance  off,  would  suddenly 
start  from  behind  the  stalagmite  columns,  and  fly  to  a 
greater  distance,  hiding  again.  Now,  for  the  first  time, 
we  noticed  that  the  walls  and  pillars  were  apparently  carv 
ed  into  grotesque  images,  in  many  places  j  and  the  Pro 
fessor  discovered,  on  close  inspection,  that  the  pervading 
light  came  from  a  new  species  of  phosphorescent  fungus, 
completely  coating  the  rocks  where  they  were  left  un 
touched. 

As  a  measure  both  of  policy  and  safety,  we  at  length 
paused,  and  the  guide  slowly  advanced  alone,  leaving  his 
torch  with  us,  and  holding  out  the  Professor's   gold' chain 
and  watch,  in  order  that  he  might   attract   the  creatures, 
whether  they  should  pro  veto  be  irrational,  human  or  infer 
nal.     It  was  a  bold  venture,  but  resulted  successfully ;  in 
a  little  while,  one  of  the  dragons  was  lured   from   his  hi 
ding  place,  became  familiar  with  our   brave  "  Stephen," 
and,  by  attempts  to  converse  in  language  and  signs,  set 
tled  the  doubt  concerning  his  human  intelligence.     Many 
others  of  his  species  soon  followed  ;  and  so  unsuspicious 
and  simple  were  their  natures,  so  ready  indeed,  like  sav 
ages  who  first  behold   Europeans,  were   they  to  worship 
us  as  divine,  that   we  acquired   their   entire  confidence. 
Leaving  the  full  and  scientific  report  of  the  discoveries  to 
the  Professor's  pen,  I  will  give  a  few  results  of  our  five 
months'   intercourse  with  the   anomalous  beings,  closing 
with  a  brief  description  of  a  recent  visit  to  the  distant  cav 
erns  or  realms  of  "  King  Nono." 


158  NEW  WONDERS  OF  TUB  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

It  was  during  the   late  examination  of  the  stupendous 
ball  where  the  ancestors  of  Nono  are  entombed,  or  rather 
suspended,  that   the   fact  of  most  importance  to   science 
and  to  curiosity,  was  developed.     Before  this,  we  had  con 
cluded  that  the  Anthropoptera   might  possibly  have  de 
scended  from  the  Aztec  race   of  Mexico,  or  the  mound- 
builders,  or  some  other  superterranean  human  race ;   but 
that,  most  probably,  they  are  an  entirely  distinct  genus  of 
mammalia.     And  this  conclusion  will  not  be  a  matter  of 
surprise,  considering  the   wonderful   transformations   the 
nations  (they  are  nothing  less)  of  these  creatures  have 
undergone.     They  all  closely  resemble  the  first  one  who 
approached  us ;    and  imagine  our   surprise,  our  positive 
conviction  that   he  was  of  a  new  genus  of  animals,  when 
we  examined   him  in  close   proximity.     His  name  is  Oo. 
He  is  seven  feet  high,  measures  twelve  inches  around  the 
waist,  two  inches  around  the  wrist  and   ancle,  and  weighs 
only  twenty  pounds — a  fact  not  at  all  wonderful  when  we 
consider,  not  only   his  form,  but  the  effect  of  a  peculiar 
diet,  and  a  perfectly  dry  atmosphere  on  this  race  of  beings, 
for  many  centuries.     The  mummy,  found   near  the  Main 
Avenue  of  the   cave,  and  which  was  to  be  seen  so  late  as 
1813,  weighed  but  fourteen  pounds  ;  and,  in  Paris,  a  hu 
man  body  has  been  reduced  to  ten  pounds,  by  long  expo 
sure  to  heated  air. 

But  this  is  the  least  extraordinary  fact  concerning  Oo, 
and  his  race.  From  head  to  foot,  and  through  and 
through,  the  tall  attenuated  creatures  are  of  an  almost 
colorless  transparency — doubtless  in  consequence  of  the 


NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  159 

absence  of  solar  light  for  so  many  generations ;  this  circum 
stance,   in   connection   with   the   proverbially   salubrious 
quality  of  the   cave's   atmosphere,  may  account  also  for 
their  great  height  of  person.     It  is   a  common  thing  for 
vegetables,  in  a  dark  cellar,  to  grow  very  slender  and  lux 
uriant,  and  to   lose  their  color.     But  the   next,  curious 
features  of  the   Anthropoptera  are   their   small,  delicate, 
transparent  scales,  covering  all  except  the  anterior  portion, 
of  the  body ;  the  glass-like  fin,  like  a  fairy's  wing,  protru 
ding  from  the  back,  the  extended  thorns  of  the  spine  evi 
dently  forming  the  rays  of  the  fin,  and  being  pointed  like 
those  of  the  Acanthopterygian  order  of  fishes ;  and,  last 
ly,  the   strikingly  piscine   cast   of  the   countenance,  the 
whole  being  of  a  wedge  shape  and  a  beautiful  softness  of 
texture,  the  region  of  the  mouth  tinted  of  a  faint  rose  col 
or,  the  nose  somewhat  lost  in  the  upper  lip,  the  chin  reced 
ing  into  the  neck,  the  remarkably  full  eye  standing  out  up 
on  a  flat  cheek,  and  the  ears  multiplied   into  a  series  of 
gills.     This  approximation   of  feature  to  that  of  fish,  is 
not  so  unaccountable  since   the  ancestors  of  the  race,  pre 
served  in  a  sort  of  Westminster  Abbey,  have  been  found 
to  bear  a  close  resemblance  to  th »  Aztec  physiognomy,  the 
nose  being  so  prominent,  and  the  face  so  receding  from  the 
tip  of  the  nose  both  to  the  crown  of  the  head  and  to  the 
throat,  that  the  change  to  fish-like  features  was  easy  and 
natural.     But  what  produced  the  change  is  something  of  a 
question.     It  could  not,  of  course,  have  resulted  from  so 
many  generations  feeding  on  nothing  but  the  eyeless  fish 
found  in  great  abundance  in   the  rivers  of  this   part  of 


100  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

the  Cave.  It  might  have  been  gradually  caused  by  the 
imagination  dwelling  on  the  fish  that  form  their  exclusive 
diet  and  are  the  only  living  things,  but  themselves,  which 
these  beings  could  contemplate ;  and  it  might  have  been,  in 
part,  the  pliant  adaptation  of  Nature  to  that  exigency  by 
which,  without  fishing  apparatus,  they  are  obliged  to  plunge 
into  the  water  and  pursue  their  prey.  We  frequently  ob 
served  them  in  this  act,  and  it  is  noticeable  that,  with  close 
ly  folded  wings,  they  swam,  not  so  much  by  motion  of 
the  limbs,  as  by  a  waving  vibration  of  the  body,  like  fish 
— so  soft,  slender  and  flexible  is  their  whole  structure. 

The  last,  and  perhaps  most  singular  distinction  of  the 
Anthropoptera,  is  their  wings,  from  which  is  derived  the 
name  given  them  by  Professor  B.  These  are  formed  of 
a  thin,  transparent  membrane,  attached,  precisely  like  the 
bat's,  to  the  thigh,  the  side,  the  under  surface  of 
the  arm  and  thence  extending  to  the  length  of  five 
feet,  the  phalanges  of  the  fingers  being  extremely  and 
delicately  elongated,  like  the  bat's,  to  sustain  the  vast  mem 
branous  web  or  sail.  The  nails  of  the  thumb  and"  toes 
had  assumed  a  strong  hook-shape,  being  about  three 
inches  long ;  how  manifestly  adapted  to  seize  on  their 
aquatic  prey,  to  climb  the  caverns,  and  prevent  a  sudden 
fall  in  the  darkness  of  those  parts  of  the  cave  not  lit  by 
the  phosphorescent  fungi !  We  observed,  too,  that  they 
slept  while  suspended  by  these  hooks  from  the  walls. 
Countless  nerves  are  also  distributed  over  the  membrane 
of  the  wing,  as  in  the  case  of  the  bat,  thus  warning  their 
possessors,  though  in  utter  darkness,  of  every  approach  to 


NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  161 

the  sharp  rocks  and  pointed  spars  ;  indeed,  so  sensitive  are 
these  nerves,  the  Anthropoptera  seemed  to  fly  as  rap 
idly  and  safely  in  the  darkest  as  in  the  lightest  avenues. 
How  evidently  has  Nature,  by  a  slow  process,  thus  guard 
ed  them  from  injury  in  motion,  from  those  frequent  pits 
in  the  cave  where,  without  wings,  they  would  be  dashed 
dead  ;  and  how  is  their  confinement  here  thus  compensated 
by  a  new,  happy  power,  and  their  range  of  enjoyment  ex 
tended  !  ,v 

As  before  remarked,  we  did  not  seriously  entertain  the 
idea  of  their  Adamic  origin  ;  but  the  fact  is  settled  by  the 
remains  in  one  of  their  Halls  of  the  Dead.  Here,  as 
we  have  learned  from  certain  hieroglyphics  deciphered  by 
our  winged  friend  Oo  (who  is  quite  an  antiquarian  in  the 
records  of  his  race) — here  are  the  actual  remains  of  the 
eleven  ancestors  of  the  Anthropoptera,  who,  three  thou 
sand  years  ago,  were  accidentally  enclosed  in  this  endless 
bianch  of  the  Mammoth  Cave,  by  an  earthquake  which 
sank  an  immense  mass  of  rock,  completely  and  forever 
closing  up  the  avenue  by  which  they  had  entered.  This 
spot,  we  afterwards  visited,  and  found  indications  of  the 
truth  of  the  inscriptions;  but  none  of  the  race,  of  course,  had 
ever  dreamed  of  the  passage  through  which  we  entered,  so 
entirely  was  it  screened  by  the  thin  stalactite  formation. 
To  return  to  the  point  of  enquiry,  we  found  the  eleven 
progenitors  perfectly  preserved  by  the  dry  air,  and  exhibit 
ing  not  one  of  the  fish  and  bat  characteristics  of  their  de- 
scendents  !  This  fact,  well  known  to  them  all,  undoubt 
edly  procured  us  a  more  ready  reception ;  indeed  they 


162  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

gave  us  to  understand  that  the  thunder  of  our  pistols,  and 
afterwards  our  strange  bodies,  (knowing  nothing  of  dress) 
were  the  reasons  of  their  extreme  alarm.  Our  destitu 
tion  of  wings  and  our  flat,  perpendicular  faces  immediately 
reminded  them  of  the  eleven  mummies,  and  of  the  tradi 
tions  of  the  earthquake  and  the  outer  world,  perpetuated 
by  the  hieroglyphic  epitaphs.  And,  now,  the  fact  of  spe 
cial  interest  is,  that  from  the  eleven,  in  a  series  of  mum 
mies  ranged  along  the  Hall,  may  be  distinctly  traced  the 
gradual  approximation  of  the  race  to  its  present  type ! 
Nothing  can  be  more  unquestionable  and  interesting.  And 
the  circumstance  that  the  eleven  are  only  of  the  ordinary 
height  of  five  and  a  half  feet,  decides  that  they  were  not 
of  the  same  race  with  the  giant  men  whose  skeletons 
were  long  ago  found  by  the  nitre-miners,  in  and  about 
the  entrance  of  the  "Cave. 

Such  is  a  running  account  of  the  appearance  and  origin 
of  the  Anthropoptera.  Conceive  our  ever  increasing 
interest  in  the  really  beautiful,  human  dragon-flies  ! — 
our  unabated  wonder  at  their  grotesque  forms — so  tall,  so 
incredibly  slender,  so  transparent  that  they  seemed  like 
living  crystal,  and  their  whole  internal  organization — the 
brain,  the  heart,  the  circulation  of  colorless  blood — all 
could  be  seen  at  a  glance ;  their  heads  covered  with  silver 
hair,  three  feet  in  length  ;  their  dorsal  fins  opened  or  fold 
ed  down  at  pleasure,  like  fans  of  glass  ;  their  scales,  coat 
ing  the  back  and  sides,  like  a  fairy  armor  of  lucid  snow- 
spangles  ;  their  wings,  each,  as  it  were,  the  half  of  an 
umbrella  of  white,  oiled  silk,  stretched  on  white  bones  as 


NEW  WONDERS  OF  T3E  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  163 

delicate  as  willow-branches,  and  closely  shut  upon  the 
body,  or  fanning  the  air,  and  sweeping  an  arc  of  five 
feet  radius ;  and  then  the  indescribable  coup  d'oeil  form 
ed  by  the  long  vistas  of  caverns  resembling  light 
ed  streets,  gardens  of  lilies,  temples,  halls  of  statues, 
where  the  spirit-creatures  were  moving  in  countless  num 
bers,  their  wings  and  scales  glistening  in  the  soft,  dreamy 
light  of  phosphorescence.  Here  they  were  darting  like  pale 
meteors,  there  poising  on  their  quivering  sails,  now  sus 
pended  from  the  roof  and  now  sliding  up  or  down  the  col 
umnar  stalactites,  at  one  moment  walking  in  stateliness 
along  the  encrusted  floor,  at  another  diving  into  the  still 
rivers  and  splashing  the  water  in  the  wildest  glee,  their 
thin,  clear  voices  all  the  while  making  melody  as  of  innu 
merable  flutes  !  The  scene  cannot  be  pictured — can  on 
ly  be  seen  and  felt. 

The  reasons  for  suppressing  this  discovery  so  long,  will 
now  be  appreciated.  A  premature  disclosure  would  have 
defeated  the  purpose  to  cultivate  the  friendship  of  the  An- 
thropoptera,  and  learn  their  mysteries — might,  indeed,  in 
the  rush  of  rude  visitors,  have  ended  in  bloodshed.  Then, 
too,  if  any  of  the  beings  had  been  dragged  forth,  or  suf 
fered  to  come  into  the  light  of  day,  its  unaccustomed  rays 
would  have  tortured  them  like  needle-points ;  and  the 
variable  temperature  of  our  air,  especially  a  sudden  tran 
sition  to  our  diet,  would  have  resulted  in  immediate  death 
to  them.  One  of  them,  with  his  own  consent,  has  been 
exported  from  the  cave  in  a  tight  cage,  carefully  heated 
to  the  point  of  temperature  of  the  cave — 52  degrees ;  and 


164  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CATE. 

the  experiment  is  now  four  months  in  progress,  how  safely 
he  can  accommodate  himself  to  solar  light  and  our  food, 
and,  more  than  all,  what  physical  changes  will  thus  be 
produced.  The  results  are  already  wonderful ;  his  body 
has  increased  in  bulk,  is  assuming  our  proportions  and 
fleshy  opacity,  the  scales  seem  to  be  loosening,  and  the 
wings  are  withering  away.  Doubtless  an  asylum  will 
eventually  be  erected  for  this  end,  and  thus  the  Anthro- 
poptera  will  be  restored  to  the  world,  and  advanced  to  the 
dignity  of  American  citizenship.  One  or  two  facts  were 
developed  in  the  dissection  of  bodies  given  us;  they  have 
the  organs  of  amphibious  animals,  and  their  bones  are  hol 
low  tubes,  without  marrow,  like  those  of  birds ;  this  ex 
plains  still  further,  their  buoyancy  and  light  weight.  We 
observed,  also,  that  one  eyeless  fish,  weighing  two  pounds, 
afforded  twenty  of  them  sufficient  food  for  one  day ;  so 
light  diet,  and  the  fact  that  the  dead  bodies  of  all  but  the 
gentry  and  geniuses,  are  thrown  into  the  rivers  as  food  for 
the  fish,  account  for  the  sustenance  of  the  multitudes  we 
saw  in  various  avenues.  The  bell,  by  the  way,  which  we 
heard  before  entering  their  abode,  is  a  musical  stalactite, 
struck  as  a  tocsin  of  alarm  to  call  together  the  myriad 
beings.  It  is  much  larger  than  the  one  destroyed  many 
years  ago,  in  another  part  of  the  cave. 

There  is  time  only  to  hint  disconnectedly  at  a  few  moro 
facts. 

The  apartments  discovered  seem  not  only  to  occupy  the 
space  between  the  well  known  Cataracts  and  the  River 
Styx,  but  also  to  underlie  both,  extending  we  know  not 


NEW  WONDERS  OP  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  165 

how  far  beyond.  There  is,  likewise,  a  belief  among  the 
Anthropoptera,  that  a  cavern  two  thousand  miles  in  diam 
eter,  extends  beyond  to  the  eastward,  and  that  it  is  inhab 
ited  ;  if  so,  half  of  the  United  States  and  a  part  of  the 
Atlantic,  overhang  an  immense  abyss  formed  by  some  geo 
logical  convulsion — a  cavity  that  must  be  balanced  by  an 
other  beneath  Asia.  Columbus,  it  is  well  known,  thus 
reasoned  the  existence  of  this  continent.  But  the  discov 
eries  already  made,  will  warrant  us  in  calling  the  Mam 
moth  Cave  a  new  continent — as  we  have  a  South  and 
North  America,  this  might  be  called  Lower  America. 
And  it  is  interesting  to  reflect  that  all  the  planets  may 
not  only  be  superficially  inhabited,  but  also  perforated 
throughout,  and  swarming  with  an  internal  population, 
like  ant-hills. 

The  halls  and  rooms  discovered,  are  many  of  them  far 
more  wonderful  than  any  hitherto  known.  In  some  pla 
ces,  the  calcareous  matter  assumes  the  forms  of  inverted 
forests,  ships,  camel-leopards,  ostriches  and  Bunker-Hill 
monuments.  The  sulphates  of  lime  and  magnesia  are 
crystalized  into  even  more  curious  forms  than  those  in  the 
cavern  called  Cleaveland's  Cabinet — sometimes  taking 
the  shape  of  cut-glass  ware,  pyramids  of  cake,  pumpkins, 
and  frozen  fountain-jets.  There  is  one  gigantic  temple  at 
least  six  hundred  feet  in  height ;  and,  in  the  lowest  cav 
ern  visited,  is  a  cataract  twice  the  size  of  Niagara — doubt 
less  formed  by  the  confluence  of  all  the  rivers  in  the  up 
per  caves.  In  the  same  region  also  are  quartz  rocks,  like 
those  in  the  Indian  avenue,  and  containing  masses  of  pure 


166  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

gold  as  large  as  cotton-bales.  From  this  metal,  the  na 
tives,  with  fragments  of  flint  and  jasper,  have  carved  out 
grotesque  ornaments  for  their  abodes,  none  of  them,  how 
ever,  wearing  any  ornaments  on  their  fragile  and  suffi 
ciently  beautiful  persons. 

We  have  not  yet  visited  the  locality  where  they  obtain 
flint,  chalk  and  red  and  yellow  ochres.  The  flint  and 
jasper  may  have  been  obtained  from  a  sand-stone  %yke 
like  that  near  the  Park  Room ;  and  red  ochre  has  already 
been  found  by  previous  visitors  of  the  cave.  With  the 
above  colors — white,  red,  and  yellow — the  Anthropoptera 
have  richly  adorned  the  walls  of  several  rooms,  in  patterns 
somewhat  resembling  the  flowered  Saracen  style.  This 
is  especially  the  case  with  the  splendid  suit  of  halls  where 
King  Nono  holds  his  court.  Here,  also,  we  discovered 
that  the  sinews  of  the  dead  had  been,  ages  ago,  stretched 
in  lattice-work  across  the  cavern,  at  intervals,  and  had  be 
come  gorgeously  encrusted  with  crystals,  after  the  manner 
of  alum-baskets ;  no  more  beautiful  screens  can  be  con 
ceived.  The  same  means  had  been  employed  to  form  the 
tin-one  and  its  canopy,  and  the  basket-coffins  in  the  Dead 
Room,  or  Westminster  Abbey.  The  sinnews  and  skins 
of  those  deemed  unworthy  of  burial,  had  likewise  been 
formed  into  instruments  resembling  the  guitar,  to  the  mu 
sic  of  which  the  courtiers  danced,  sometimes  in  an  inver 
ted  position  on  the  domes,  or  horizontally  from  the 
walls,  or  forming  various  figures  in  mid-air.  With  frag 
ments  of  flint,  many  of  the  walls  and  stalagmites  were 
carved j  and  in  these  the  progress  of  their  Fine  Arts 


NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE.  167 

for  three  thousand  years  could  be  traced  from  the  rudest 
images  to  perfect  ideals  of  their  present  form,  in  very  life 
like  and  historical  or  allegorical  attitudes — some  of  them, 
indeed,  were  ideals  of  our  own  human  figure,  two  of  the 
eleven  original  mummies  (probably  a  king  and  queen) 
having  been  evidently  stuffed  with  the  nitre-dust  and 
Epsom  saltz  abounding  here,  thus  retaining  their  exqui 
site  proportions,  and  transmitting  to  their  descendents  mod 
els  of  the  original  beauty  of  the  race.  Numerous  stalac 
tites,  carved  in  this,  and  also  in  the  dragon-form,  are  con 
nected  by  the  original  column  to  the  roof  and  floor,  thug 
presenting  the  caryatides  style  of  architecture. 

The  wonders  must  be  thus  hastily  dismissed.  King 
Nono  reigns  absolute  monarch  in  the  northern  branch  of 
the  new  caverns.  In  the  southern  branch  (where  we  en 
tered)  a  multitude  of  the  Anthropoptera  constitute  a  re 
public,  electing  their  officers  annually  by  the  acclamation 
of  their  wings.  The  year,  by  the  way,  is  correctly  meas 
ured  by  the  great  rise  of  the  subterranean  rivers,  undoubt 
edly  caused  by  the  rainy  season  on  the  earth  above.  The 
highest  water-mark  is  the  day  of  election,  and  the  lowest 
the  period  of  New  Year's  festivity.  In  the  republic,  they 
are  making  commendable  progress  in  the  arts  of  design, 
and  also  in  literature,  their  books  being  portions  of  the 
walls,  sold  out  to  authors  by  their  government,  and  let 
tered  and  illustrated  with  chalk  and  ochres.  Here,  also, 
is  the  spot  where  their  ancestors  were  first  shut  in  by  the 
earthquake ;  and  many  of  the  creatures  had  been  cutting 


168  NEW  WONDERS  OF  THE  MAMMOTH  CAVE. 

away  at  the  rock,  in  hope  of  effecting  an  escape  from 
cavedom  ;  some  indeed  (whose  name,  literally  translated, 
is  ultra-go-aheaders)  had  dashed  themselves  dead  in  their 
impatience  to  remove  the  rock. 

After  all,  the  most  important  disclosures  are  found  in 
the  ancient  inscriptions,  as  deciphered  by  our  scaly  friend 
Oo.  One  series  of  hieroglyphics  runs  thus ; — six  figures 
in  the  act  of  running  towards  the  left ;  then  (to  the  right 
and  below)  an  extremely  elongated  human  neck  with  the 
shoulders  and  breast  (on  which  are  the  running  men  and 
women)  and  the  head,  around  which  are  the  moon  and 
stars,  and  on  its  forehead  several  pyramidal  projections. 
With  the  aid  of  Oo,  we  have  decided  that  the  breast  of 
the  large  figure  represents  America ;  the  figures  in  mo 
tion,  six  emigrants,  perhaps  escaping  from  pursuers  ;  the 
long  neck,  the  supposed  former  isthmus  that  connected 
the  West  Indies  (or  South  America)  with  Africa  ;  the 
head,  surrounded  with  stars,  the  dark  or  night-like  color 
of  the  Ethiopean  ;  and  the  short  horns  being  emblems  of 
the  pyramids  of  Egypt,  from  the  vicinity  of  which  the  first 
inhabitants  of  this  continent — perhaps  these  very  mum 
mies — may  have  emigrated,  the  neck  of  land  between  the 
hemispheres  having  afterwards  disappeared.  This  theory 
may  now  be  considered  a  settled  truth. 

In  conclusion,  the  world  is  especially  indebted  to  our 
winged  friend  Oo  for  his  assistance  in  interpreting  many 
valuable  inscriptions.  He  is  the  Champollion  of  the  age  ; 
and,  like  all  his  dragon  race,  is  also  a  Sham-Apollyon. 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 


WE  are  accustomed  to  expend  our  veneration  upon  hu 
man  parentage  and  wooden  cradles.     We  are  loth  to  ac 
knowledge  our  mother  Earth — to  confess  that  we  were 
first   cradled  in  a   clam-shell.     But  our  spirit's  infancy 
reaches  back  to  the  lowest  form  of  life.     The  oak  lies  not 
only  in  the  acorn,  but  in  the  acorn's  previous  bud.     The 
human  mind,  lies  at  first,  in   the  sea-shell ;  nay,  in   the 
crystal.     Here  is  the  first  pearly  drop  of  created  intellect 
as  it  falls  from  heaven ;  we  are  the  after  river.     At  first, 
we  exist  in  the   plant,  sponge,  and   other  species  of  Zoo 
phytes  ;  indeed,  in  this  human  life,  there  are  often  some 
traces  of  a  sponging  disposition  left.     In  the  shell,  crys 
tal,  and  plant,  there  is  not  yet  the  power  of  locomotion ; 
nature  kindly  holds  us  on  her  lap.     Then  we   arrive  at 
quadrupedal  motion ;  in  this  life,  it  is  long  before  we  for 
get  it,  and  learn  to  stand  erect. 


170  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

Here  we  have  a  true  pupilage  of  spirit ;  chrysalis  within 
chrysalis,  noviciate  within  noviciate.  Nor  does  this  in 
volve  the  atheism  of  the  French  naturalist,  who  dispensed 
with  a  First  Cause,  by  insisting  that  organization  can  be 
gin  in  a  natural,  chemical  fermentation ;  and,  from  a 
mere  animalcule,  work  itself  up  to  the  physical  perfection  of 
the  human  system.  Each  material  embodiment  must  de 
cay  ;  it  cannot  change  itself,  by  accident  or  design,  into  a 
higher,  more  perfect  one.  Each  form  of  incarnation  re 
quired  a  distinct,  original  creation,  and  is  reproduced 
unalterable ;  but  our  spirits  glide  obliviously  from  one  to 
the  other.  It  is  the  same  winged  seraph  upon  every  step 
of  the  heaven-reaching  ladder. 

That  our  previous  existence  has  left  no  traces  in  the 
memory,  is  no  refutation.  The  analogy  of  temporary  in 
sanity  and  somnambulism,  proves  this  simple  preposition, 
— that  we  can  have  an  active,  and,  to  some  extent,  intel 
ligent  life  within,  and  thus  much  more  such  a  life  anterior, 
to  this :  further,  it  proves  that  it  can  be  accompanied 
with  a  suspension  of  certain  faculties  of  mind. 

It  is  wise  that  a  veil  of  oblivion  is  thrown  over  our  an 
te-human  states.  Otherwise  we  would  be  encumbered 
with  a  throng  of  useless  recollections ;  we  would  be  for 
ever  looking  back,  instead  of  upward  and  onward ;  we 
would  relax  our  clasp  upon  that  banner  placed  in  every 
hand,  and  inscribed  "Excelsior."  To  be  less  poetic  and 
more  practical,  there  would  otherwise  be  a  proneness  to 
conform  our  present  to  our  previous  modes  of  life.  If 
gigantic  nests,  like  those  of  the  fabled  roc  in  Sinbad, 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  171 

wore  not  substituted  for  brick  and  mortar,  there  would  at 
least  be  some  danger  that  this  tendency  would  creep  into 
the  details  of  life.  Possibly  our  housewives,  in  memory 
of  thetr  bird-life,  might  never  be  persuaded  to  furnish  us 
with  anything  but  '  bird-nest  puddings.' 

It  is  easy  to  be  pleasant  upon  this  theme  ;  it  is  hardly 
possible  not  to  be  quite  smart  in  treating  of  it  lightly. 
Transmigration  is  generally  regarded  as  a  capital  jest,  or 
as  a  fine,  old,  exploded  fancy ;  though  rather  more  beau 
tiful  in  brilliant  explosion,  than  in  dull,  unquestioned  re 
ality.  Let  us  remember,  however,  that  it  was  once  a  be 
lief  ;  and  that  there  is  something  at  the  base  of  every  hu 
man  belief,  suggesting,  if  not  substantiating  it.  There  is 
yet  no  Bible  of  Science,  attested  by  miracles  and  martyrs, 
like  the  Bible  of  religion ;  therefore  it  is  a  profound  re 
mark,  when  applied  to  science,  not  religion,  that  the  "  el 
ements  already  exist  in  many  minds  around  you,  of  a  doc 
trine  of  life  which  shall  transcend  any  written  record  we 
have.  The  new  statement  will  comprise  the  scepticisms 
as  well  as  the  faiths  of  society,  and  out  of  unbeliefs  a 
creed  shall  be  formed." 

Butler's  argument  for  a  future  life  rests  on  analogy, 
and  it  arrives  at  moral  certainty.  That  argument,  he  him 
self  admits,  will  equally  apply  to  all  animals  ;  but  dispo 
ses  of  the  subject  by  saying, — first,  that  we  know  not 
with  what  latent  powers  animals  may  be  endued  ;  second, 
that  their  ^immortality  does  not  necessarily  imply  any  ca 
pacities  of  a  rational  and  moral  nature.  The  first  suppo 
sition  is  directly  in  favor  of  a  theory  of  Metempsychosis 


172  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

which  affirms  that  every  animal  is  "but  the  novice  and 
probationer  of  a  more  advanced  order;"  and  that  man 
himself  is  truly  the  last  of  an  ascending  series,  through 
•which  he  has  passed.  Mind  may  exist  with  some  of  iflPpow- 
ers  in  action,  and  others  dormant.  There  is,  at  first,  no 
evidence  of  moral,  rational  capacities  in  the  infant ;  why 
then  should  we  deny  them  to  be  latent  in  all  animals,  ex 
hibiting,  as  they  do,  many  characteristics  of  mind?  If 
they  manifest  some  of  its  attributes,  the  burden  of  proof, 
not  mere  assertion,  lies  with  you,  that  they  have  not  every 
other.  But  ignorance  debars  your  proof.  We  are  not 
initiated  into  the  mysteries  of  these  Independent  Orders 
of  Odd  Animals  below  us.  As  Coleridge  says  of  the  Pla- 
tonists,  so  we  may  say  of  brutes — "  if  we  cannot  understand 
their  ignorance,  we  should  conclude  ourselves  ignorant  of 
their  understanding."  Who  can  gaze  long  into  the  quiet, 
thoughtful  eyes  of  many  of  them,  without  a  stout  hint  that 
there  is  more  than  we  give  them  credit  for ;  without  feel 
ing  reproached  for  yielding  idle  consent  to  that  calumni 
ous  philosophy,  which  would  make  them  mere  machines, 
to  be  annihilated,  soul  and  body  at  death — the  soul  of 
them,  at  least. 

The  last  supposition  of  Butler,  that  their  immortality 
does  not  imply  any  rational  capacities,  is  abhorrent  to  all 
conception  of  the  designs  of  a  moral  governor  of  the  Uni 
verse — to  all  ideas  of  the  heaven  of  the  Bible.  It  would 
give  us  the  Elysium  of  the  Indian,  who,  in  his  simplicity, 
peoples  his  Paradise  with  the  ghostly  game,  which  he  is  to 
hunt  forever,  in  peace  and  profusion.  Is  it  not  more  con- 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  173 

sistent  to  suppose,  that  the  great  amount  of  inferior  life, 
animal  and  vegetable,  sustains  a  necessary,  spiritual  rela 
tion  to  us,  and  thus  to  the  moral  ends  of  the  Creator  ? 
We  can  prove  by  analogy  that,  where  life  is,  there  is 
somewhat  immortal ;  we  deny  that  an  irrational  immortal- 
ty  is  supposable ;  we  assume  that  there  is  no  transition 
from  an  irrational  life  to  a  rational  eternity — that  the 
conditions  of  our  own  probation,  by  analogy,  disprove 
it.  What  are  we  to  do  ?  Is  not  the  theory  of  Metem 
psychosis,  just  mentioned,  our  only  alternative?  Let 
us  look  further.  Excuse  a  little  prosiness ;  there  is 
not  much  of  this  corduroy  road  to  go  over,  and  you  will 
get  upon  a  railway  very  soon. 

There  is  a  growth  of  mind,  as  well  as  of  body ;  from 
infancy  to  manhood  these  keep  pace  together.  How  little 
of  the  god-like  man  do  we  discover  in  the  animal  glee, 
the  pitiable  weakness,  the  dawning  intelligence  of  the  in 
fant  !  Yet  the  child's  intellect  becomes  the  man's.  The 
river  of  an  inner  life  is  there ;  by  gradual  accessions  it  at 
tains  an  Amazon  strength  and  volume.  Must  we  believe 
that,  at  our  birth,  it  swells  up  from  nothing  into  existence 
— an  intellectual  existence  which  is  so  soon  river-like  in 
contrast  with  that  of  the  animal ;  but  presenting  a  dispar 
ity  no  greater  than  that  of  those  large  streams,  which  dis 
appear  for  a  long  way  beneath  the  Earth's  surface,  only  to 
burst  forth  with  accumulated  force  and  plenitude.  May 
not 

"  Our  birth  (be)  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgettiog?" 


174  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

Allowing  a  little  time  for  the  infant's  mind  to  get  thor 
oughly  waked  up,  it  is  only  on  a  par  with  that  of  the 
most  intelligent  brute.  Have  we  not  here  struck  upon 
the  same  stream  ?  The  most  sagacious  animal,  in  its  in 
fancy,  is  on  a  level  with  the  next  inferior  species.  Is  not 
this  same  rill  the  after  stream,  the  still  later  river  ?  And 
so  we  might  follow  up  the  scries,  proceeding  from  greater 
to  less  degrees  of  perfection,  until  we  come  to  unorganized 
matter — the  boundary  beyond  which  there  is  no  sign,  of 
life.  The  simile  will  hold  from  man  to  the  Cedar  of 
Lebanon,  and  from  that  to  the  hyssop  that  springeth  out 
of  the  wall.  After  looking  at  principles  aside  from  forms, 
we  may  see  that  there  is  no  impassable  gulf  between  the 
natural  kingdoms — that  it  is  no  great  leap  from  man  to  the 
crystal. 

The  crystallizing  energy  proceeds  upon  the  most  precise 
mathematical  principles ;  even  as  the  honey-bee  constructs 
its  cells,  with  the  utmost  economy  of  strength,  materials 
and  capacity.  Yet  some  would  explain  this  latter  phenom 
enon,  by  classing  it  with  the  merely  mechanical  process  of 
the  unscientific  practitioner,  who  finds  the  contents  of  a 
cask  with  a  guage,  or  ascertains  his  longitude  with  a  quad 
rant.  This  will  do,  when  they  have  discovered  a  Treat 
ise  on  Geometry,  or  at  least  a  few  miniature  instruments, 
actually  in  the  possession  of  the  bee,  and  of  Nature's 
thousand,  invisible,  little  crystal-makers.  Until  they  de 
tect  these,  we  must  believe  that  all  of  these  little  agents 
carry  their  theories  and  rules  in  their  own  heads.  Go  with 
your  search-warrant  to  the  spider  and  bee,  and  at  least 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  175 

show  us  a  goniometer,  or  a  pair  of  compasses,  concealed 
upon  their  persons ;  then  will  we  hold  them  innocent  of 
any  cognition  of  intuitive  truths ;  then  will  we  unhesita 
tingly  believe  that  the  musquitoes  at  the  West,  as  we  are 
assured  in  the  broad  style  of  Occidental  hyperbole,  liter 
ally  carry  grindstones  beneath  their  wings,  wherewith  to 
sharpen  their  remorseless  beaks. 

There  is  the  same  evidence  of  intelligence  in  the  crys 
tallizing  agency,  as  in  the  insect,  or,  outwardly,  in  the  man. 
The  doctrine,  advocated  by  Addison,  that  immediate  Di 
vine  efficiency  is  the  secret  of  instinct,  vegetable  life,  crys 
tallization,  and  all  of  the  ongoings  of  nature,  no  one, 
probably,  will  now  maintain.  Deity  works  through  medi 
ate  agencies,  by  Him  gifted  with  conditional  self-activity. 
Show,  then,  that  there  is  not  as  truly  an  intelligent  agent 
beneath  the  insect  and  crystal,  as  there  was  back  of  the 
hand  which  wrote  the  Principia.  Euclid  and  Newton  were 
not> inane  chemical  laws;  if  we  had  no  evidence  of  their 
personal  existence,  we  would  never  consider  their  works, 
upon  accidentally  discovering  them,  to  be  an  effect  of 
blind  laws,  or  direct  creations  of  Omnipotence.  It  can 
be  assumed,  too,  that  the  crystal  has  life — aside  from  the 
fact  that  it  follows  necessarily  from  intelligence — until 
some  positive  evidence  is  adduced  to  the  contrary.  It  is 
not  disproved  by  the  fact  that  vapor  and  fluids,  under  cer 
tain  conditions,  always  pass  '  into  crystallization.  Life, 
soul — distinct  and  individual,  yet  incomputable  and  every 
where  present — constantly  awaits  its  appropriate  conditions, 
to  seize  upon  and  organize  lifeless  matter.  The  semi- 


176  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

transparent  fluid  in  the  shell  of  the  chrysalis,  is  intrinsi 
cally  mere  inert  matter ;  yet  it  invariably  passes  into  the 
butterfly,  for  a  life  principle  is  busily  at  work  upon  it. 
Nor  must  the  life  of  the  crystal,  to  constitute  life,  be  pro 
longed  beyond  the  act  of  outward  completion.  It  is  petri 
fied  in  the  act  of  growth  ;  its  corpse  is  its  own  sarcopha 
gus,  its  own  pyramid.  Indeed,  one  is  inclined  to  think, 
at  times,  that  the  Pyramids  of  Egypt  are  nothing  but  enor 
mous  crystals,  formed  and  left  there  by  the  soul  of  a 
Washington  or  a  Bonaparte,  when  it  first  came  into  being, 
and  centuries  before  it  assumed  the  human  form.  People 
may  have  mistaken  for  masonry,  the  cleavage  in  laminae, 
parallel  and  perpendicular  to  the  base,  of  the  interfacial 
solid  angles,  which  cleavage,  by  a  law  of  crystallization,  is 
a  property  of  the  octahedral  prism  ;  and  by  which,  after 
sufficient  removal  of  the  laminae,  it  would  become  a  cube  ; 
— a  natural  mistake,  when  we  reflect  that  the  minutest 
crystal,  under  a  microscope  of  adequate  power,  would 
present  the  appearance  of  steps  upon  its  surfaces ;  and  that, 
in  the  case  of  the  pyramids,  but  half  of  the  octahedron  is 
visible  ; — otherwise  a  strange  mistake ;  as  if  the  account 
of  Heroditus,  that  the  erection  of  one  of  them  employed  a 
hundred  thousand  men  for  twenty  years,  is  not  manifestly 
a  bear  story ;  as  if  the  ancients  possessed  a  mechanical 
force  sufficient  to  raise  those  immense  blocks  of  stone, 
which  we  cannot  so  much  as  move ;  as  if,  granting  its 
possession,  it  were  not  only  an  impossibility,  but  a  libel 
on  humanity,  that  such  an  amount  of  labor  could  have 
been  directed  in  such  a  channel,  for  so  long  a  time ;  as  if 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  177 

supposing  this  possible,  a  simple,  geometrical  form  of 
structure  would  ever  have  been  preferred  to  the  grand  and 
grotesque  architecture  of  Old  Egypt. 

Take  breath,  reader !  You  hardly  expected  to  be 
marched  directly  over  the  top  of  a  Pyramid.  But  we 
shall  soon  take  the  cars,  and  have  an  easy  jaunt  of  it  the 
rest  of  the  way.  In  contending  that  the  apparent  life- 
lessness  of  the  crystal  is  no  evidence  against  a  living,  in 
telligent  agency  in  its  formation — that  it  is  petrified  in  the 
act  of  growth — the  remark  was  forgotten,  that  the  law  of 
gradual  induration,  which  alone  would  set  a  bound  to  our 
lives,  by  changing  the  muscular  plasticity  of  youth  to  fixed 
rigidity  in  old  age,  maybe  almost  instantaneous  in  its  ope 
ration  on  the  crystal.  However  this  may  be,  and  for  the 
present  dropping  the  subject  of  insects  and  jewels — winged 
and  wingless  gems,  between  which  there  is  not  much  differ 
ence  after  all — let  any  one  prove  it  a  false  analogy,  which 
reasons  from  our  present,  to  a  previous  growth  of  mind,  in 
some  other  state  of  existence,  as  a  highly  probable,  if  not 
a  necessary,  conclusion. 

Again,  the  old  argument  concerning  the  identity  of  the 
soul  through  all  the  constant  flux  of  the  material  body, 
will  apply  here.  If  we  really  inhabit  successive  bodies  in 
this  life,  it  is  quite  reasonable  that  we  have  passed  through 
an  anterior  series.  Certainly,  there  is  a  greater  dissimil 
arity  between  an  infant  specimen  of  the  class  Mammalia, 
genus  Homo  Sapiens,  and  a  full-grown  specimen  of  the 
same,  than  between  the  latter  and  an  individual  of  the 
same  class,  genus  Pithecus  Satyrus,  in  its  maturity.  If 


178  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

Adam  had  ignorantly  stumbled  upon  the  infant  Cain,  in 
one  of  his  scientific  excursions,  we  doubt  not  he  would 
have  put  the  small  phenomenon  low  down  in  his  classifica 
tion  of  the  animal  kingdom. 

Once  more,  (we  are  almost  in  sight  of  our  subterranean 
depot,)  organized  matter,  it  is  well  known,  passes,  by  the 
process  of  consumption,  from  a  less  degree  of  perfection  to 
a  higher.  The  microscopic,  transparent  animalcules,  every 
where  pervading  the  ocean,  subsist  upon  vegetable  parti 
cles,  washed  by  rivers  into  that  vast  reservoir,  and  there 
held  in  solution.  These  animalcules  are  the  food  of  vari 
ous  polypi ;  these  again  are  devoured  by  superior  species, 
until  we  come  to  minute  fish.  From  thence,  there  is  an  up 
ward  transmutation  to  those  species  which  furnish  almost 
exclusive  sustenance  to  the  fisherman,  and  pass  into  his 
bodily  composition.  Thus  the  fisherman  has  an  unbroken 
line  of  aquatic  ancestry,  so  to  speak,  on  his  material  side. 
Is  it  not  a  reasonable  conclusion,  that  he  has  a  co-exten 
sive,  co-existent,  and  ascending  line  on  his  spiritual 
side? 

So  with  us  landsmen.  The  lichens  are  the  '  first  pio 
neers,  who  make  an  inroad  upon  utter  barrenness.'  Then 
come  mosses,  which  thrive  upon  the  decay  of  lichens. 
The  soil,  furnished  by  the  mosses,  gives  root  to  herbage 
and  grains ;  and  these  in  turn  are  the  food  of  animals. 
This  same  matter  is  often  changed  into  a  long,  upward 
series  of  carnivorous  animals,  until  it  re-appears,  refined 
and  organized  into  our  own  delicate,  physical  structure. 
Now,  are  we  to  suppose  that  a  new,  distinct,  vital  princi- 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  179 

pie  was  created  at  every  step  in  this  ascending  transmuta 
tion  of  matter,  merely  to  carry  it  along  from  link  to  link, 
and  then  at  every  step  destroyed  !  Was  a  new,  different 
ly  contrived  steam-engine  constructed  at  every  station, 
to  transport  this  matter  up  the  gentle  inclination  to  the 
next,  there  to  be  demolished  and  give  place  to  another  1 
Or,  did  not  this  same  locomotive  mind  of  ours  take  materi 
al  freight  through  the  whole  track,  from  the  animalcule 
and  lichen  to  the  man  ?  Here  is  our  Grand  Underground 
Railway ;  running,  not  beneath  the  earth  we  tread  upon, 
but  beneath  the  earth  with  which  we,  and  the  whole  world 
of  life,  are  clothed.  Under  another  view,  it  may  be  con 
sidered  as  iq  part  subterranean,  and  in  part  superterranean. 
The  starting  point,  the  Ticket-Office,  is  beneath  the  angu 
lar  roof  of  the  crystal — in  a  certain  variety  of  quartz,  they 
have  not  yet  learned  to  burn  their  smoke,  which  accounts 
for  its  peculiar  discoloration ; — from  this  it  is  a  short  way 
out  into  the  sunshine  of  our  insect-life ;  at  first,  moving 
slow  enough  in  the  caterpillar ;  then,  disappearing  a  mo 
ment  in  the  chrysalis,  as  through  a  deep  excavation,  we 
reappear  and  buzz  along,  with  a  flashing  lustre,  through 
flowery  fields  and  waving  woods,  until,  at  our  insect  death, 
we  plunge  into  a  tunnel's  dark  mouth,  and  are  lost  to 
view.  Amidst  the  gloom  and  stunning  roar  about  us,  we 
swoon  into  forgetfulness  of  the  Past ;  then,  emerging  into 
light,  we  awake  to  the  new  and  busier  life  of  higher  orders 
of  animals.  It  is  a  long,  mountainous  way,  and  we  are 
often  in  darkness  and  often  in  light,  before  the  Elysian 
Fields  of  this  human  life  open  upon  us. 


180  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

Now  onward — onward  we  whirl ;  the  anniversary  mile- 
posts  of  life  quickly  come  and  go  ;  another  yawning  cav 
ern — another  grave  is  before  us.  When  that  one  is  pass 
ed,  we  trust  to  fly  along  a  forever  sun-lit  track,  like  to 
that  "  great  rail-road  of  the  heavens,  staked  out  from  con 
stellation  to  constellation,  on  which  the  comet  comes  blaz 
ing  upward  from  the  depths  of  the  universe." 

It  is  not  very  strange  that  we  do  not  recognize  kindred 
mind  in  the  lowest  forms  of  life.  There,  we  see  the  little, 
creeping,  puffing  train  in  the  far  distance  j  and  thus  can 
not  distinguish  all  the  wheels  and  valves  and  pistons — in 
other  words,  these  boasted  mental  attributes  of  ours.  We 
stand  upon  a  Dover  cliff,  and 

"  The  crows  and  choughs  that  wing  the  mid-way  air, 
Seem  scarce  so  gross  as  beetles." 

It  is  not  to  be  understood  by  all  this,  that  we  absorb 
the  spirit,  acquire  the  disposition  of  the  animal  we  devour, 
as  certain  herbivorous  ladies  and  gentlemen  of  our  day 
suppose.  Such  a  doctrine  would  lead  us  to  expect,  that 
the  grave-robbing  hyena  would,  in  time,  become  quite 
humanized.  It  is  not  to  be  required  of  analogies  that 
they  hold  in  detail.  Only  prove  this  to  be  a  false  analo 
gy,  which  simply  reasons  from  the  ascending  perfectibility 
of  organized  matter,  to  a  corresponding  and  co-extensive 
ascent  of  that  mind,  which  confessedly  co-exists  with  mat 
ter  in  its  highest  perfection. 

We  are  forever  looking  at  the  form,  the  outward ;  not 
at  the  inner,  the  principle.  Respiration  is  respiration, 
whether  by  means  of  lungs,  as  in  us,  or  by  pores,  as  in 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  181 

plants  and  some  of  the  lowest  orders  of  animal  life.     So, 
mind,  the  one  principle  back  of  all  respiration,  circulation, 
nutrition,  is  mind,  whatever  the  degree  of  development ;  it 
is  life,  and  the  only  life.     If  the  mere  animal  has  not  in 
tellect,  and  yet  has  life,  this  life  must  be  a  tertium  quid. 
But  the  highest  generalization  of  existence  is  into  mind,  or 
intellect,  and  matter ;  and  matter  is  inert ;  therefore  life  is 
a  property  of  intellect.     To  get  a  theory  of  life,  in  its  true, 
primary  essence,  we  must  leave  forms  and  abstract  chemi 
cal   laws — mere   correspondencies   of  certain  dependent 
changes,  not  real  agents ;  we  must  go  back  to  the  primary, 
moving  cause,  subject  of  course  to  the  Great  First  Cause. 
Now  what  is  this  inmost  mainspring  of  life  but  my  soul 
itself?     Is  there  another,  created,  independent  agent  to 
keep  in  motion  the  involuntary  action  of  the  system  ? 
May  not  every  inflation  of  the  lungs  and  pulsation  of  the 
heart,   though   regularly  excited  by  constant  exigencies 
within,  be  the  same  in  kind  with  an  involuntary  closing  of 
the  eye,  or  interposition  of  the  arm,  when  the  eye  or  person 
is  suddenly  endangered,  by  an  occasional  exigency  with 
out  ?     The  fact  of  increased  palpitation,  in  consequence  of 
sudden  emotion,  would  rather  suggest  that  the  acceleration 
and  the  usual  pulsation  originate  in  the  same  manner. 

I  like  not  this  putting  the  reins  into  the  hands  of  an  un 
known  something  within  me,  though  there  were  just  as 
much  safety  to  this  carneous  vehicle.  I  (my  mind)  am 
not  to  be  put  like  a  band-box  on  the  top,  Sir  Phrenologist, 
while  your  physical  laws  assume  the  driver's  seat ;  or,  per 
haps,  being  many,  the  rogues  are  mounted  upon  the  hors- 


182  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILHOAD. 

es.  Most  triumphant  simile  !  The  physical  laws  are 
rather  the  inanimate  reins.  I  may  be  a  very  philosophi 
cal  or  meditative  coachman,  so  that  my  thoughts  are  al 
ways  upon  something  else ;  but  I  will  drive  a  four-in-hand 
(respiration,  perspiration,  circulation,  digestion,)  just  as 
well  for  all  that.  Aye, — since  the  action  of  the  system 
continues  in  sleep — I  may  be  sleeping  soundly,  but  I  shall 
instinctively  keep  the  road,  until  upset  by  a  cold  or  an 
ague ;  and  then  these  same  reins  will  only  facilitate  the 
catastrophe. 

Cuvier's  theory  of  vortices  was  very  good.  Life — that 
is,  mind,  according  to  the  foregoing — is  a  little,  eddying 
whirlwind  which  draws  up  from  the  earth  these  columns  of 
dust,  which  we  call  body,  plant,  tree ;  these  spheres  of 
dust,  which  we  name  crystal,  porcupine,  elephant — an 
odd  collocation,  for  it  is  hard  to  forget  forms,  and  come 
back  to  essentials.  We  cannot  watch  invisible,  nude 
spirit,  between  its  disrobing  and  the  re-investment  of  it 
with  the  body.  Nature  does  not  let  us  into  the  mysteries 
of  her  boudoir,  and  therefore  we  do  not  identify  ourselves 
with  those  forms  of  life,  which  are  only  the  morning  disha 
bille  of  our  spirits.  But  who  shall  say  that  it  is  not  the 
same,  identical  efficiency  or  mind,  which,  in  its  true,  farthest 
infancy,  seizes  the  vapor  of  your  very  breath,  arid  shoots  it 
out,  particle  by  particle,  into  beautiful  frost-work  upon  the 
window-pane  ;  or,  in  the  deep  recesses  of  the  earth,  gathers 
and  condenses  carbon  into  the  diamond.  Again,  in  ma- 
turer  vigor,  it  flies  to  the  earth's  surface,  attracts  its  gase 
ous  and  mineral  elements,  and  pushes  them  up  into  the 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  183 

light  of  day,  all  organized  into  a  blooming  plant,  or  iron- 
hearted  oak.  Still  again,  in  later  and  wiser  energy,  it  suc 
cessively  cleaves  the  air — an  insect,  then  an  eagle;  or 
glides  over  the  ground,  a  serpent,  and  then  an  antelope. 
Finally,  having  cast  off  the  last  of  this  long  series  of  chrys- 
ales,  having  arrived  at  the  last,  earthly  grade  in  this  school 
ing  of  spirits,  it  fastens  on  purer  matter  and  lovelier  forms, 
and  looks  forth  from  the  human  face  divine. 

It  was  a  crystallizing  power  all  along.  First,  it  tried  its 
hand  at  common  quartz,  frost  and  snow  ;  then  at  a  star 
fish  or  pearl ;  now  it  can  crystallize  flesh  and  blood  into 
living  carnelian — can  give  us  an  awkward,  rhomboid  spar 
of  a  man,  or  a  perfect,  flashing  gem  of  a  woman.  It  can 
now  go  on,  after  giving  itself  body,  and  crystallize  immate 
rial  images  and  truths  into  poems,  romances,  codes  of  gov 
ernment,  sermons,  speeches.  It  can  collect  and  arrange 
rules  of  conduct,  and  systems  of  Theology,  from  the  intui 
tions  of  its  maturer  reason  and  the  teachings  of  llevelation  ; 
and  thus  attain  that  stage  of  its  being  when  moral  accoun 
tability  to  its  Maker  begins. 

There  is  another  metempsychosis  yet.  We  have  not 
been  introduced  to  the  highest  circles  of  the  universe.  We 
are  not  true  Doctors  of  Divinity  or  Laws  ;  we  are  not  an 
gels  worth  writing  verses  at  yet.  This  mortal  coil  must  be 
dropped.  Spirit  must  wrap  itself  in  its  coronation  robe — 
a  final,  organic  perfection,  when  every  sense  will  be  infi 
nitely  quickened,  and  perhaps  many  new  ones  added. 
Now  our  wishes,  as  the  proverb  saith,  are  not  even  horses ; 
then  our  wishes  will  be  wings.  Says  Richter,  in  his 


184  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

Dream  of  the  Universe,  "my  body  (as  I  dreamed)  sank 
away  from  me,  and  my  inward  figure  came  shining  forth ; 
by  my  side  stood  a  similar  figure,  which  flashed  without 
ceasing.  '  Two  thoughts  are  my  wings,'  said  the  figure, 
'  the  thought  Here,  and  the  thought  Yonder.  Think  and 
fly  with  me,  that  I  may  show  you  the  universe.  Sometimes 
the  flashing  figure  outflow  my  wearied  thoughts,  and 
shone  far  from  me,  like  a  spark  beside  a  star,  until  I  again 
thought  Yonder,  and  was  with  it." 

This  is  the  last  metempsychosis.  Here  the  old  theo 
ries  of  Transmigration  were  at  fault.  Their  authors  had 
no  revelation  to  discover  this ;  therefore  they  believed 
that  we  might  pass  out  of  this  into  lower  scales  of  life. 
But  has  Revelation  excluded  the  idea  that  we  may  have 
transmigrated  from  other  forms,  from  previous  states  ?  It 
speaks  of  the  '  beasts  that  perish  ;'  but  nothing  is  predi 
cated  of  the  animal,  in  those  passages,  that  is  not  of  man, 
under  certain  conditions  ;  besides,  this  and  similar  phrases 
may  be  accommodations  to  popular  belief,  like  those  re 
ferring  to  astronomical  appearances.  It  speaks  of  '  the 
spirit  of  the  beast  that  goeth  downward,  and  the  spirit  of 
man  that  goeth  upward  ;'  but,  mind  you,  it  is  a  change  of 
place,  not  annihilation ;  its  spirit  goeth  downward,  to  be 
clothed  anew  in  other  clay ;  while  that  of  man  goeth  up 
ward,  having  finished  its  long  series  of  earthly  metamor 
phoses.  Revelation  has  given  us  hints  in  point.  What 
mean  the  assurances  we  have  that  the  evil  propensities  of  the 
brute  creation  were  only  awakened  at  Adam's  Fall,  and 
will  cease  when  the  Millenium  begins — that  then  the  lion 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  185 

and  lamb  will  He  down  together  ?  Why  was  it  said  of  the 
ground,  '  thorns  and  thistles  shall  it  bring  forth  to  thee  ?' 
How  should  human  sin  have  infected  a  wholly  independent 
order  of  beings  around  us  ?  Verily,  the  germ  of  an  assas 
sin  is  in  the  thistle  ;  a  Lady  Macbeth  in  the  rose.  We 
are  the  river,  and  the  lowest  form  of  life  the  rill.  The 
poisonous  fountain  broke  forth  in  the  river's  bed,  but  the 
deadly  tide  set  back  to  the  river's  source.  Your  polemi 
cal  philosophers  must  now  go  back  to  the  oyster,  and  fight 
their  battles  there.  Then  they  will  come  home  with  some 
apology  for  muddy  metaphysics. 

Speaking  of  Adam,  in  his  case  and  that  of  all  animals 
when  first  created,  there  is  no  need  to  suppose  a  transmigra 
tion,  a  preparatory  schooling  of  soul ;  that,  as  well  as  their 
bodies,  was  created  mature.  Still,  as  no  evidence  of  a 
race,  corresponding  to  man,  is  found  in  the  Ante-Mosaic 
systems  of  life,  discovered  by  geologists  in  a  fossil  state, 
I  am  in  doubt  whether  the  spirits  of  those  wonderful  mon 
sters  did  not  somehow  Burvive  chaos,  and  enter  into  the 
present  system.  There  was  a  spice  of  the  Mastodon  and 
Icthiosaurus  in  the  old-time  heroes. 

Languages  and  literature  have  given  us  hints  in  point. 
What  means  the  old,  innate  tendency  to  the  2Esopic  style 
of  fable — a  style  peculiarly  fascinating  to  the  child's  mind, 
which,  from  the  recency  of  its  transmigration,  is  undoubt 
edly  possessed  of  a  sort  of  consciousness  that  these  fables 
are  grounded  in  truth.  Then  too,  there  is  the  universal 
disposition  to  select  proper  names,  as  well  as  metaphorie 
designations,  from  animals,  and  apply  them  to  men,  in 


186  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

view  of  some  real  coincidence  of  character.  Above  all, 
Nature  has  given  us  a  thousand  hints.  What  theory  of 
indefinable  instinct  sftall  explain  the  occasional,  extraordi 
nary  exhibitions  of  reason  in  brutes  ?  What  chemical 
laws  will  account  for  the  phenomena  of  the  sensitive  plant, 
the  shutting  of  flowers  at  precise  hours,  the  fact  that  many 
turn  their  leaves  and  petals  to  the  sun  from  his  rising  to 
bis  setting,  and  that  some  vines  always  climb  from  right 
to  left,  and  others  in  the  opposite  direction — the  former 
class  reminding  us  of  the  left-handed  tribe  of  Benjamin,  or 
rather  the  tribe  of  Van  Bunschotens,  who,  Diedrich 
Knickerbocker  assures  us,  always  kicked  with  the  left 
foot.  It  is  insane  to  deny  that  there  is  some  sort  of  intel 
ligence  in  all  these  instances.  What  mean  those  singular 
combinations  of  animal,  vegetable,  and  mineral  character 
istics,  termed  Zoophytes ;  unless  it  be  to  confound  your 
delusive  classifications,  and  show  that,  under  the  Creator, 
the  same  primary  agent  is  in  all  organization  ?  The  fact 
that  the  hair  and  finger-nails  are  truly  vegetables,  points 
to  the  same  conclusion.  The  rose  petal,  my  lady,  may 
claim  cousinship  to  your  '  rosy,  tapering  nails ;'  the  ten 
drils  of  the  vine  to  your  sunny  ringlets.  To  be  less  com 
plimentary,  there  is  something  more  than  ludicrous  simile 
in  that  line  of  Holmes', 

"Her  hair  fell  round  her  pallid  check,  like  s;a-weed  on  a  clam." 

Take  organized  life  in  whatever  form,  and  then  prove  that 
one  agent  is  not  beneath  it  all,  ever  one  and  the  same  in 
kind,  if  not  degree— ever  the  same,  call  it  crystallization, 
vitality,  instinct,  or  mind. 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  187 

In  conclusion,  for  what  end  is  the  seeming  excess  of 
life — flying,  swimming,  walking,  creeping,  blooming, 
crystallizing  life,  all  over  the  world,  in  wildernesses  un 
trodden  by  man,  in  unexplored  caves,  in  unsounded  seas. 
Natural  Theology  asks  for  but  one  instance  of  design ; 
physio-chemistry  demands  only  a  balance  of  the  animal 
and  vegetable  kingdoms,  be  the  extent  of  both  great  or 
small ;  our  necessities,  sensual  or  poetical,  seek  only  a 
sufficiency  for  sustenance,  or  material  for  poetical  imagery. 
For  what  end  is  the  apparent  profusion,  unless  it  be  that  the 
whole  world  is  a  vast,  musical,  military,  gymnastic,  poly 
technic  school  for  the  education  of  the  soul,  from  the 
prism  and  fern  to  the  man.  How  beautifully  does  this 
solve  the  problem  respecting  natural  diversities  of  genius, 
by  suggesting,  for  instance,  that  the  mathematician  was 
longer  in  the  honey-bee  and  crystal  departments  than  oth 
er  men — that  Euclid  and  La  Place  graduated  directly  from 
them  into  men,  and  thus  had  no  time  to  forget  their  math 
ematics,  like  the  rest  of  us,  who,  possibly,  may  have  taken 
a  long  vacation  on  the  prairies  as  elk  or  bison.  So  of  the 
diversities  of  disposition  ;  these  may  result  from  the  end 
lessly  varied  series  of  transmigrations  of  different  minds, 
the  characteristic  disposition  of  each  animal  leaving  its 
trace  in  the  final  compound.  The  last  of  the  series  at  any 
point,  may  somewhat  efface  the  traces  of  the  preceding, 
and  itself  furnish  the  most  prominent  trait  in  the  next 
form ;  so  that,  by  setting  down  our  characteristics  in  the 
order  of  their  prominence,  we  may  trace  back  the  ante-hu 
man  history  of  our  souls  to  their  very  starting  point. 


188  AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD. 

It  is  all  a  scene  of  trial,  proof,  in  tins  antechamber  of 
eternity.  Wherever  there  is  Will,  there  is  some  sort  of 
responsibility  and  reward.  The  dignity  of  floating  in  the 
sunlight  as  an  insect,  right  royally  clad  in  velvet  and  gold, 
is  not  attained  without  a  candidateship.  Gradual  ascent 
is  a  law  of  intelligence.  There  is  no  legitimate  dynasty  in 
Nature.  Man  does  not  wear  the  crown  of  the  animal 
kingdom,  without  having  seen  some  rough,  subaltern  ser 
vice.  He  is  not  the  Emperor,  the  Napoleon  of  Nature, 
until  he  has  been  successively  the  cadet,  the  corporal,  the 
general,  the  consul.  Our  several  deaths  as  insects,  plants, 
animals,  were  the  Lodi,  the  Jena,  the  Austerlitz  of  our 
career.  The  Waterloo  is  yet  before  us;  from  that  scene 
we  shall  rise  to  a  nobler  empire,  or  sink  to  eternal  exile. 

The  error  of  Emerson  is,  that  he  has  linked  spirit  for 
ever  into  nature.  He  does  not  acknowledge  the  last 
metempsychosis  into  a  permanent,  glorious,  perfect  state.* 
With  strange  inconsistency,  he  makes  spirit  to  grope  down 
ward  into  unconsciousness,  after  toilfully  groping  upward 
— up  and  down  in  an  endless  circle  ;  as  if  there  could  be 
a  retrograde,  after  so  long  a  series  of  ascending  intelli- 
ligence ;  as  if,  having  reached  the  pinnacle  of  Nature's 
temple,  we  must  not  forthwith  leap  out  of  Nature,  and 
float  ever  upward  on  new-born  wings,  until  we  melt 
to  sight  in  the  loftier  temple-dome  of  the  boundless  heav 
ens  above. 

And  now,  reader,  say  you,  this  theory,  if  not  heretical, 
must  always  remain  an  idle  speculation — it  is  not  suscep- 

•Sce  Essays,  second  series,  p.  21 2. 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  189 

tible  of  proof?    True,  not  the  proof  of  the  senses.     But 
moral  certainty  can  be  reached  "without  that. 

Say  you,  there  is  too  great,  seeming,  excess  of  ani- 
inal  and  vegetable  life  to  admit  of  the  supposition,  tha  t  it 
all  passes  into  the  human  form  eventually,  if  we  consider 
the  comparatively  limited  extent  of  our  race?  Perhaps 
not ;  but  if  you  insist  upon  it,  the  objection  can  be  avoid 
ed  by  reminding  you  that  it  takes  a  great  many  drops  to 
form  a  river ;  that  there  may  be  a  division  of  labor  in 
mind-formation  ;  as,  in  manufactures,  the  pin  is  pointed  in 
one  department,  headed  in  another,  and  polished  in  still 
another.  It  was  not  a  cat,  a  dog,  or  a  hare,  that  was 
gamboling  about  twenty  or  thirty  years  ago,  but  it  was 
simply  your  pugnacity,  your  timidity,  with  a  little  sprink 
ling  of  other  qualities  to  give  them  personality ;  and  thus, 
in  separate  embodiments,  these  attributes  were  working 
themselves  up  to  perfection,  until,  freed  from  their  earthy 
alloy,  they  could  slide  with  mercurial  ease  into  one  men 
tal  globule.  We  have  had  many  transmigrations ;  each 
state  on  the  above  supposition,  was  compounded  of  many 
forms  of  life  ;  one  Dr.  Wigan  has  discovered  that  we 
have  two  co-existing  minds ;  so  that  you  must  (taking 
the  phrenological  number  of  organs)  get  the  thirty-ninth 
power  of  your  whole  number  of  transmigrations,  and  then 
multiply  the  result  by  two.  This  will  account  very  sat 
isfactorily  for  the  great  excess  of  all  other  races  over  the 
human. 

Say  you,  what  utility  would  follow,  if  this  theory  was 
proved  true  ?    Much   every  way.     Its  universal  belief 


190  AN  UNDERGROUND  BA1LROAD. 

would  doubtless  prevent  an  amount  of  animal  and  veg 
etable  pain,  incalculable — pain  which  claims  our  sympa 
thy  more  than  human  misery,  inasmuch  as,  in  those  forms 
of  existence,  the  mind  may  have  no  glimpses  of  its  better 
state  to  cheer  it'  Men  would  no  longer  be  "  considered 
famous  according  as  they  had  lifted  up  axes  upon  the 
thick  trees."  Our  groves  and  shade-trees  and  shrubs 
would  be  spared.  The  amateur  entomologist  would  be 
convicted  of  veritable  infanticide,  whenever  he  dared  to 
pin  a  beetle  in  his  cabinet.  Balaams  and  Jehus  would  be 
no  more ;  or  if  there  were  any,  in  the  light  of  this  theory, 
they  would  be  terribly  rebuked.  Canary  cages  would  be 
turned  to  sieves,  and  menageries  to  pedlar's  carts.  Children 
would  no  longer  be  suffered  to  amputate  insects,  and 
sportsmen  would  be  gibbeted,  without  trial  by  jury.  Se 
riously,  then  will  "man  imprisoned,  man  vegetative, 
speak  to  man  impersonated."  Then  will  we  recognize  in 
the  insect  and  flower,  a  younger  brother  and  sister,  even 
as  now,  in  spirits  and  seraphs,  our  elder  brethren. 

Why  should  it  be  humiliating  ?  Why  should  we  shrink 
with  contempt,  and  exclaim — "  Was  thy  servant  a  dog?" 
With  deeper  emphasis,  might  a  sainted  spirit,  looking 
earthward  from  the  walls  of  heaven,  exclaim — "  Was  thy 
servant  a  man?"  But  no;  a  spirit  cannot  awake  to 
this  surprise,  for  death  is  not  a  sleep. 

•'  Our  birth  is  but  a  sleep  and  a  forgetting  ; 
The  soul  that  rises  with  us,  our  life's  star, 
Hath  had  elsewhere  its  setting, 
And  cometh  from  afar.  • ' 


AN  UNDERGROUND  RAILROAD.  191 

"Ilearen  lies  about  us  incur  infancy" 

— if  that  infancy  be  our  earliest  one  in  the  crystal.  Our 
home  is  in  the  sky,  and  we  doubtless  came  from  thence ; 
but  we  cling  to  the  rain-drop,  in  our  first  descent,  and 
build  a  wondrous  palace  of  it,  even  before  we  alight  upon 
the  ground.  The  clumsiest  flake  has  elements  of  beauty, 
although,  in  general,  these  storm-gems  come  far  short  of 
perfection.  They  are,  for  the  most  part,  such  as  the 
"  common  mind"  might  be  expected  to  make  in  its  first 
tumble  to  earth.  It  is  seldom,  for  instance,  that  we  have 
a  shower  of  poets ;  yet  I  remember  a  slight  snow-fall — 
one  still  morning,  five  years  since — so  infinitely  varied 
and  splendid  in  its  crystallizations,  that,  if  I  could  be  as 
sured  that  one  new-born  genius  did  not  accomplish  it  all, 
and  that  each,  little,  heaven-distilled  intellect  would  com 
plete  its  transmigratory  ascent  to  humanity  in  just  a  cen 
tury,  I  would  confidently  predict  a  plentiful  crop  of  Mil- 
tons  and  Shakspeares,  for  the  year  nineteen*  hundred  and 
forty-five. 


TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP. 


As  I  reclined  upon  the  dewy  grass  one  clear,  summer 
night,  a  seeming  star  shot  down  from  the  zenith,  and,  as  it 
neared  the  earth,  expanded  into  the  bright  form  of  an  an 
gel,  bearing  a  long  staff  like  a  thread  of  lightning.  The 
figure  paused  just  over  my  head,  and  bending  upon  me 
its  radiant  eyes,  whispered  in  tones  aeolian,  "  Wouldst 
thou  know  more  of  the  mighty  universe,  and  learn  what 
part  thou  and  thy  little  native  star  make  of  its  infinity  ? 
And  wouldst  thou  learn  the  brevity  and  vanity  of  Life, 
and  the  swiftness  of  Time  ?"  Speechless  with  wonder  and 
joy,  and  thinking  that  I  should  straightway  have  wings 
given  me  to  fly  through  all  immensity,  (as  in  Richter's  in 
comparable  "  Dream  of  the  Universe,")  I  waved  my 
glad  assent.  Immediately  the  figure  touched  me  with  the 
tip  of  its  shining  rod  ;  no  angelic  strength  flowed  into  my 
nerves, — no  rainbow  wings  unfurled  their  ample  breadth, 


TBAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DKOP.  193 

but  a  sinking,  melting  sensation  crept  over  me ;  I  shrank 
rapidly,  until  I  was  diminished  to  an  atom — so  small 
that,  in  grasping  for  support  at  a  particle  of  dust  floating  by, 
I  fell  headlong  through  a  large  tunnel-like  pore  in  its  ve 
ry  centre.  As  the  point  of  space  into  which  I  was  com 
pressed,  was  at  first  just  where  the  centre  of  my  former 
body  had  been,  of  course  I  was  several  inches  from  the 
ground;  down  this  dizzy  height  I  con'iiued  to  fall,  until, 
just  before  I  reached  the  earth,  I  became  frightfully  aware 
that  I  was  about  to  be  precipitated  directly  into  a  dew- 
drop  !  I  drew  in  my  breath,  determining  manfully  to 
abide  the  terrific  plunge,  and  swim  for  my  life,  although, 
as  I  descended  an  inch  nearer,  the  drop  expanded  into  a 
wide,  shoreless  ocean,  as  it  were  a  whole  round  world  of 
water.  Alas,  thought  I,  this  is  the  penalty  of  my  pre 
sumptuous  curiosity.  I  endeavored  to  calm  the  wild  tu 
mult  of  my  thoughts,  that  I  might  die  with  composure, 
when,  as  I  approached  yet  nearer  in  my  quick  descent, 
the  dew-drop  seemed  no  longer  a  sea,  but  apparently  sep 
arated  into  a  cloud  of  mist, — then  its  particles  widened 
still  farther,  until  they  lay  at  seemingly  immeasurable 
distances  from  each  other,  and  glittered  in  the  moonlight 
like  little  stars.  I  descended  between  them  as  into  a  wide, 
glorious  universe  of  scattered  suns  !  I  had  a  cold  bath 
after  all ;  for,  passing  to  the  very  centre  of  the  stellar  dew- 
drop,  I  alighted  in  a  deep,  limpid  stream  upon  the  surface 
of  one  of  its  atom-worlds ;  it  broke  my  fall,  and  perhaps 
saved  my  life.  I  crawled  to  the  bank,  and  throwing  my 
self  upon  the  soft  turf,  sought  to  recover  my  breath  and 

9 


194  TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP. 

composure.  Suddenly  my  eye  caught  a  gleaming  particle 
at  my  feet — a  dew-drop  within  a  dew-drop ;  how  small  it 
was  you  may  barely  guess,  when  you  reflect  that  it  bore 
the  same  proportion  to  the  globules  of  dew  you  see  upon 
the  grass,  that  those  globules  do,  not  to  this  immense 
earth,  but  to  the  whole  visible  heavens  I  trembled  lest 
the  angel  should  appear,  and  touching  me — a  poor  atom — 
I  should  le  a  second  time  diminished  into  an  atom  of  an 
atom — a  very  monad  of  a  monad ;  and  falling  into  a  sec 
ond  drop,  I  might  be  lost  to  myself  in  complete  annihila 
tion,  even  as  I  was  already  lost  to  my  friends  and  the  ou 
ter  world.  Shuddering  at  the  thought,  I  looked  up  into 
the  sky  of  dewy  particles,  and  although  I  knew  it  was  all 
contained  within  a  mere  drop,  yet  so  complete  was  the 
illusion,  and  so  perfect  the  harmony  of  proportion  between 
myself  and  everything  else,  that  I  could  hardly  believe 
I  was  not  of  my  old  gigantic  human  size,  and  looking 
up  into  the  same  old  heavens.  And  if  I  were,  thought  I, 
might  I  not  be  laboring  under  a  similar  illusion ;  and  may 
not  the  sons  and  daughters  of  Adam  have  just  as  exag 
gerated  notions  of  their  own  size  and  importance,  and  of 
the  bulk  of  their  earth,  and  of  the  sublime  distances  of 
their  stars,  as  the  inhabitants  of  this  to  them  invisible 
atom-world  ? 

I  have  neither  time  nor  inclination  to  describe  the 
scenes  and  adventures  I  passed  through  in  my  atomic  trav 
els,  but  will  merely  give  a  few  general  result*  of  my  ob 
servations.  It  is  sufficient  to  say  that  the  little  globe  cor- 


TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP. 


responded  in  many  respects  with  that  greater  one,  upon 
which  its  whole  surrounding  firmament  of  microcosms 
rested,  in  the  form  of  a  sparkling  dew-drop.  That  which 
struck  me  most  forcibly  at  first,  was  the  fact  that  the  com 
putation  of  time  upon  this  terraqueous  particle,  and  the 
length  of  life  enjoyed  by  its  inhabitants,  corresponded  per 
fectly  with  the  size  of  the  atom.  An  hour  with  us  was  a 
thousand  years  with  them,  and  consequently  the  eight 
hours'of  a  summer  night,  during  which,  only,  the  dew-drop 
(their  universe)  could  exist,  would  just  equal  the 
time  of  our  world's  existence,  if  we  suppose  the  final 
conflagration  to  take  place  two  thousand  years  hence. 
A  year  with  them  was  equal  to  four  seconds  of  our 
time,  sixteen  years  to  nearly  one  minute,  and  the  most 
protracted  life,  four  score  years,  was  completed  in 
just  five  minutes.  So  inconceivably  rapid,  however,  was 
the  train  of  their  thoughts  and  actions,  and  so  crowded 
with  events  and  enjoyments  was  their  brief  span  of  time, 
that  their  lives  seemed  quite  as  long  to  them  as  ours  to 
us.  They  took  a  sound  night's  rest  in  the  one  hundred 
and  eightieth  part  of  a  second,  and  I  met  wih  certain  la 
dies  and  gentlemen  of  wealth  and  elegant  leisure,  who 
complained  bitterly  of  "dull  times"  and  ennui,  and  who 
spent  nearly  all  their  lives  in  sleep,  amusements,  or  at  their 
toilets,  the  better  to  "  kill  time"  and  pass  away  long  days 
which,  by  our  computation,  were  only  so  many  small 
fractions  of  a  second.  They  reached  their  full  stature  and 
maturity  in  one  minute  from  their  birth,  and  were  soon 
married,  made  or  lost  their  fortunes,  and  in  four  minutes, 


196  TRAVELS  IN  A  D£W-DROP. 

at  the  farthest,  after  they  had  come  of  age,  they  sank  into 
the  grave  with  age  and  decrepitude.  Their  poets,  indeed, 
were  much  given  to  discoursing  upon  the  frailty  and  short 
ness  of  life,  but  it  was  generally  regarded  as  weak,  inno 
cent  cant  and  common-place,  for  the  memories  of  these  ul 
tra-microscopic  beings  could  recall  but  little  that  happen 
ed  a  half-minute  before  (eight  of  their  years)  and  they 
looked  forward,  at  every  age,  to  a  long,  leisurely  life  be 
fore  them.  Certainly,  many  of  them  occupied  all  of  their 
five-minute  lives  in  preparing  for,  and  building  splendid  ed 
ifices,  and  cultivating  beautiful  gardens  and  trees  around 
them,  as  if  they  were  to  enjoy  them  more  than  one  brief 
moment ;  many  also  were  hoarding  little  heaps  of  gold- 
dust,  every  particle  of  which  was  as  much  smaller  than 
the  atom-world  itself,  as  a  guinea  is  smaller  than  our  mas 
sive  planet. 

So  conformed  was  I,  in  mental  and  physical  structure, 
to  these  little,  rational,  talking,  laughing  monads,  and  with 
such  an  unconscious  velocity,  corresponding  to  my  size, 
did  my  thoughts,  motions,  waking  and  sleeping  fractions 
of  a  second  come  and  go,  that  at  first  I  had  great  diffi 
culty  in  keeping  the  human  measures  of  time,  and  could 
hardly  realize  that  all  these  events  were  passing  in  a 
summer's  night.  In  one  thing  I  differed  from  them ;  the 
angel  had  endowed  me  with  an  atomic  immortality,  so  that 
I  became  a  great  subject  of  wonder  to  the  generation  which 
arose  after  the  one  I  had  first  fallen  upon.  All  the  no 
ted  philosophers  and  doctors,  by  this  time,  began  to  flock 
around  me,  to  know  if  I  had  adopted  their  several  theo- 


TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP.  197 

ries  and  modes  of  diet ;  and  I  was  equally  claimed  as  a 
living  confirmation  of  their  systems  of  practice,  by  the  ad 
vocates  of  homoeopathy,  allopathy,  and  the  water-cure. 
But  the  third  generation  of  theorizing  atomites,  which 
arose  four  minutes  after  the  last  had  died  away,  took  no 
philosophical  notice  of  me ;  I  became  an  object  of  super 
stitious  terror,  and  figured  largely  in  novels  and  romances 
as  a  sort  of  haggard  Wandering  Jew,  who  was  doomed 
never  to  die.  About  this  time,  for  another  reason,  I  was 
imprisoned  in  a  dungeon,  where  I  lay  the  rest  of  the  night, 
(their  thousands  of  years)  until  morning  broke  and  the 
drop  exhaled.  Before  I  come  to  this  grand  catastrophe, 
one  word  as  to  the  state  of  science  and  politics  with  the 
inhabitants  of  this  central  particle  of  dew. 

At  the  tirae  of  my  first  arrival,  the  prevalent  theory 
was  similar  to  that  of  Ptolemy ;  they  supposed  that,  at  a 
great  distance  from  their  terraqueous  particle — perhaps  the 
thousandth  part  of  a  hair's-breadth — it  was  surrounded  by 
all  the  other  visible  particles  of  the  drop,  revolving  with 
inconceivable  rapidity  around  the  central  one,  and  making 
an  inaudible  but  sublime  "  music  of  the  spheres."  Some 
twelve  hundred  years  after,  (an  hour  and  twelve  minutes 
with  us)  a  new  theory  superseded,  which  made  the  drop 
stationary,  the  central  particle  revolving  on  its  axis,  and 
gave  to  the  surrounding  star-like  atoms  their  true  dis 
tances.  Four  hundred  of  their  years  later,  instruments  were 
constructed  which  put  to  flight  their  long-cherished  idea 
that  their  little  spangled  globule  reached  outward  in  all  di 
rections  invisibly  and  indefinitely,  so  that  the  whole  uni- 


198  TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP. 

verse  was  nothing  but  that  drop  infinitely  extended,  and 
making  one  interminable  ocean  of  dew  !  They  found  its 
shape  and  bounds,  and,  moreover,  discovered  thousands  of 
other  dew-drops  scattered  all  around  them,  which,  with 
their  telescopes,  appeared  like  crowded  firmaments  of 
suns.  This  was  a  sublime  advance  in  their  knowledge,  to 
be  sure ;  but  unluckily  I  ventured  to  assure  them  that  there 
is  a  vast,  substantial,  enduring  world,  around  which  all 
those  clouds  of  stars  were  scattered  in  thick  profusion, 
like  the  dew  upon  their  own  atom-world  ;  that  this  invisible 
world  would  endure  when  their  planet  and  skies  of  dew 
had  been  exhaled,  exploded,  and  "  no  place  found  for 
them  ;"  that  the  unseen  world  is  filled  with  mansions, 
towers,  palaces,  and  inhabited  by  beings  as  much  superi 
or  to  theirs  and  to  them,  as  they  and  their  abodes  were  to 
any  still  more  minute  beings  and  habitations  which  they 
might  imagine  to  be  contained  in  a  single  drop  from  their 
flowing  streams. 

All  this  was  received,  at  first,  as  a  very  good  moon- 
story  or  Gulliver's  tale  ;  but  when  they  found  I  was  in 
earnest,  they  shut  me  up  as  a  poor  deluded  lunatic  !  In 
a  little  hollow  atom  of  a  dungeon,  having  one  window  gra 
ted  with  bars  irrefragible,  yet  invisible  to  a  spider's  eye, 
did  I  remain  for  the  rest  of  the  night,  although  to  them 
and  myself  it  seemed  several  thousand  years.  A  king 
was  on  the  throne  when  I  was  first  confined,  and  my  keep 
ers  were  continued  in  office  during  life  ;  they  succeeded 
each  other  in  the  freshness  of  youth,  but,  one  after  an 
other,  grew  old  and  grey,  and  died.  Towards  morning  a 


TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP.  199 

republic  arose  in  place  of  tHe  monarchy,  and  then  there 
was  a  rotation  in  office  every  year, — in  other  words  all  pub 
lic  officers  were  ejected  every  four  seconds. 

But  I  hasten  to  the  final  and  terrible  catastrophe — the 
conflagration  of  the  atom-world,  which  indeed  was  nothing 
more  than  the  rising  of  our  sun,  and  the  evaporation  of  the 
dew !  The  increasing  light  of  the  dawn,  lit  up  the  parti 
cles  with  a  lustre  strange  to  the  inhabitants  of  the  atom, 
and  unknown  in  all  their  history,  for  the  drop  which 
formed  their  vaulted  heaven  of  stars  had  hitherto  been 
only  illumined  by  moonlight.  As  the  light  increased,  their 
stars  seemed  growing  in  size,  and  shone  with  almost  intol 
erable  splendor,  and  it  was  generally  believed  by  them 
that  the  whole  universe  was  rapidly  approaching,  as  if  on 
all  sides  it  had  conspired  to  crush  their  wicked  little 
world.  But  their  philosophers  assured  them  that,  at  the 
most  rapid  rate,  those  stars  would  not  reach  them  in  hun 
dreds  of  years.  This  soon  quieted  their  fears,  and  they 
went  dancing  and  laughing  to  their  business  and  recrea 
tions.  But  soon  there  was  light  enough  for  them  to  get 
glimpses  of  our  earth  and  its  scenery,  which  had  thus  far 
been  dark  and  viewless,  for  the  moonlight  only  revealed 
the  dew-drops ;  they  .grew  terrified  at  the  dim  blades  of 
grass  which  seemed  like  long  streaming  comets  of  a  green 
sulphurous  brilliance,  and  they  shouted  in  terror  at  sev 
eral  moving  forms  of  men,  who  were  early  going  afield, 
and  whose  heads  towered  far  above  their  utmost  sight. 
Suddenly  the  sun  looked  over  the  eastern  hills ;  they 
could  not  see  its  disc,  but  verily  they  could  behold  its 


200  TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP. 

warm  rays,  which  came  darting  into  the  dew-drop — that 
is,  their  heavens,  like  broad,  vivid  sheets  of  lightning,  long 
as  the  universe,  and  so  thick  and  incessant  as  almost  to 
melt  into  one  vault  of  blinding  fire  !  The  outermost  par 
ticles  of  the  drop,  which  just  before  appeared  like  mighty 
suns  plunging  in  wrath  upon  the  atom-planet,  now,  as 
they  evaporated,  seemed  to  explode  in  crashing  thunder 
and  disappear  forever.  Nearer  and  nearer  came  the  de 
vastation  ;  one  by  one — nay,  by  hundreds,  they  were  blot 
ted  out,  and  their  explosions  shook  the  inmost  atom  of  a 
world,  where  I  stood  in  mute  horror. 

The  dew-drop  skies  grew  intensely  hot  to  me  and  the 
inhabitants  of  the  particle ;  our  delicate  senses  could  not 
endure  it,  and  the  gentle  warmth  seemed  to  us  like  a  fur 
nace  heated  seven-fold.  The  bars  of  my  dungeon  hissed 
to  the  touch,  and  the  walls  cracked  aloud ;  the  keeper  had 
opened  it  and  fled,  and  I  rushed  out;  horror-struck  beings 
were  running  to  and  fro,  and  throwing  away  the  gold  to 
which  they  had  frantically  clung,  for  it  blistered  in  their 
grasp ;  the  streams  simmered  and  went  up  in  vapor ;  forests 
and  cities  took  fire  and  burned  to  heaven  ;  two  armies,  who 
a  moment  before  were  at  the  crisis  of  battle,  tore  off  their 
Bcorching  armor,  and  fell  into  each  other's  arms ;  some 
howled  in  agony,  others  fainted,  and  all  around  lay  pallid 
corpses,  whose  distorted  faces  stood  out  ghastly  in  the  quiv 
ering  lightning.  Louder  boomed  the  crash  of  worlds,  and 
the  atom-planet  on  which  I  stood  seemed  just  ready  to  ex 
plode,  when — I  awoke  ! 

My  dream  was  over ;  the  noise  and  large  pattering  drops 


TRAVELS  IN  A  DEW-DROP.  201 

of  a  thunder-storm  had  awakened  me,  as  I  lay  upon  Ihe 
grass.  I  sought  shelter  in  my  room,  thinking  that  to  supe 
rior  beings  our  lives  may  seem  but  a  moment — Tune  but 
a  summer's  night ;  that  to  the  angel  who  shall  stand  upon 
the  land  and  sea,  and  lift  his  awful  form  above  the  stars, 
our  visible  heavens  may  seem  but  a  dew-drop,  and  its  final 
conflagration  but  as  an  exhalation  of  the  nightly  distilled 
diamond.  Then,  too,  the  great  invisible  world  shall  stand 
out  in  its  vast  reality,  like  the  earth  to  the  affrighted  atoms, 
under  the  rising  Sun  of  Eternity. 


9* 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT. 


IT  is  high  time  that  justice  be  done  to  my  friend  Blit- 
zen.  Certainly,  it  is  time  that  the  world  be  put  in  posses 
sion  of  a  discovery,  which,  next  to  Animal  Magnetism,  the 
"Water  Cure,  and  the  Electro-Magnetic  Telegraph,  (with 
all  of  which  it  is  intimately  connected,)  is  the  most  won 
derful  development  of  the  age.  "We  need  not  hesitate  to 
say,  that  it  will  speedily  effect  a  revolution  in  society — in 
the  whole  economy  of  life — such  as  the  world  has  never 
seen,  or  dreamed  of  seeing. 

It  may  gratify  a  reasonable  curiosity,  as  well  as  prepare 
the  reader  to  appreciate  better  the  claims  of  both  the  dis 
covery  and  the  discoverer,  if  I  first  describe  the  man,  and 
relate  the  circumstances  under  which  I  made  his  acquain 
tance.  It  is  also  much  preferable,  that  the  scientific  hints, 
facts,  and  premises,  and  the  process  of  reasoning  which 
led  my  friend  to  so  marvelous  results,  be  given  in  his  own 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  203 

words,  as  nearly  as  I  can  recollect  them.  Not  to  tanta 
lize  the  curious,  it  may  be  remarked,  however,  at  the  out 
set,  that  Von  Blitzen — BLUNDEKVICH  VON  BLITZEN — has 
realized  what  may  have  occurred  to  many  as  a  most  desir 
able  impossibility,  namely  :  the  instantaneous  transporta 
tion  of  one's  self  to  any  distance,  by  means  of  the  Electro- 
Magnetic  Telegraph  !  This,  perhaps,  is  the  most  brilliant 
feature  of  the  discovery,  although  it  is  accompanied  with 
results  of  even  more  practical  moment — such  as  a  perfect 
realization  of  the  ultimatum  of  the  old  Gnostic  philosophers 
and  mystic  sects — complete  freedom  from  the  chains  and 
pains  of  matter  ;  the  elevation  of  the  laboring  classes,  and 
a  general  relief  from  the  present  faulty  construction  of 
society;  and  also  a  triumphant  vindication  of  all  fuel- 
saving  inventions  and  systems  of  scientific  starvation — not 
by  showing  their  individual  utility,  but  by  surpassing,  and 
thus  dispensing  with  them  altogether — food  and  fuel  be 
ing,  on  my  friend's  system,  no  longer  necessary  in  any 
shape.  But  to  my  story. 

In  the  course  of  a  pedestrian  journey,  during  the  sum 
mer  of  1846,  I  had  occasion  to  pass  through  an  extensive 
tract  of  partially  wooded  and  thinly  inhabited  land,  for  the 
purpose  of  saving  several  miles  of  circuitous  road.  Near 
the  middle  of  the  day,  I  encountered  a  man,  whose  odd 
appearance  and  singular  equipments  at  once  arrefted  my 
attention.  Seemingly  quite  advanced  in  life,  his  long, 
gray  hair,  in  part  discolored  to  a  dingy  yellow,  hanging 
over  his  shoulders,  he  was  short,  thick-set,  and  clad  in  a 
towering  fur  cap,  and  a  threadbare,  faded,  green  surtout, 


204  VON  BLITZES  S  EXPERIMENT. 

buttoned  to  the  chin.  His  face,  full  and  round,  bore  a 
peculiarly  benignant  expression,  despite  a  gray,  scrubby 
beard  and  moustaches,  while  his  complexion,  sallow  and 
leathery,  completed  the  foreign,  antiquated,  mouldy  look 
of  his  whole  figure.  An  ancient  pair  of  spectacles,  with 
enormous  circular  glasses,  clung  to  his  little  bulbous  nose, 
unassisted  by  the  modern  side-supports  ;  a  short  German 
pipe,  with  a  crooked  stem  and  capacious  bowl,  capped  with 
a  brass  cover,  depended  from  his  pinched-up  lips  ;  a  pon 
derous  musket  was  in  his  hands,  and  an  uncouth  powder- 
flask  hung  upon  one  side,  balanced  on  the  other  by  a  bat 
tered  tin  box  (used,  as  I  afterwards  learned,  to  preserve 
botanical  specimens)  ;  these,  with  sundry  other  curious 
receptacles  suspended  about  him,  and  a  stiff  gauze  net  for 
entrapping  insects,  attached  to  a  long  staff,  and  looking 
like  a  countess-dowager's  cap  of  state,  completed  his  list 
of  accoutrements.  Enthusiastic  little  Blitzen !  Never 
shall  I  forget  thy  quaint,  hearty  look,  although  thou  art 
now — not  dead,  indeed — but  I  am  anticipating  the 
sequel. 

When  I  first  beheld  the  solitary  stranger,  he  was  in  the 
act  of  aiming  his  gun  at  the  top  of  a  dry  pine  (I  think  at 
a  common  black  crow).  I  waited  until  he  fired,  and  see 
ing  that  he  was  disappointed  in  the  effect  of  his  shot,  I  ap 
proached  and  addressed  him.  He  replied  to  my  salutation 
with  great  affability,  and  in  broken  English,  mingled  with 
so  many  German  words  and  idioms,  as  to  leave  no  doubt 
respecting  the  land  of  his  nativity.  I  gradually  drew 
from  him  his  name  and  history,  and  found  that  he  had 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  205 

been  all  his  life  a  resident  of  Gottingen,  (where  he  was 
born  and  educated,)  until  a  year  or  two  since,  when  he 
came  to  this  country  for  the  purpose  of  satisfying  his  curi 
osity  and  scientific  tastes.  He  had  traveled  through  a 
part  of  South  America,  Mexico,  and  the  Southern  States, 
and  for  several  months  had  been  living  in  the  vicinity  of 
the  spot  where  I  found  him.  Our  conversation  then  turn 
ed  successively  upon  nearly  all  the  departments  of  science, 
and  even  Phrenology  and  Mesmerism,  in  all  of  which  he 
seemed  quite  at  home,  and  highly  enthusiastic ;  then  we 
ran  through  some  German  names  of  note — Kant,  Leibnitz, 
Priessnitz,  Spurzheim,  Hahnemann,  etc. — with  the  history 
and  achievements  of  each,  and  the  personal  appearance  of 
some  of  whom,  he  was  well  acquainted.  He  claimed  for 
his  father-land  precedence  in  everything,  and  waxed  more 
eloquent  every  moment  in  dilating  about  it ;  in  short,  he 
seemed  to  be  a  universal  genius,  familiar  with  everything, 
and  lauding  to  the  skies  the  most  contradictory  theories 
and  systems,  (provided  they  were  German,)  and  so  san 
guine,  that  he  was  ready  to  go  off  into  rhapsody  upon  every 
wild,  extravagant  conjecture  that  has  been,  or  can  be, 
started.  I  came  to  the  conclusion  that  he  was  possessed 
of  credulity,  and  a  passion  for  castle-building,  amounting 
almost  to  monomania. 

After  we  had  passed  several  hours  in  this  manner,  our 
conversation  happened  upon  the  magnetic  telegraph,  and  I 
remarked,  that  one  glory  is  yet  reserved  for  genius  to 
achieve,  or  rather  lies  beyond  its  utmost  powers,  and  that 
is,  to  make  electricity  a  vehicle  for  ourselves,  as  well  as 


208  VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

for  our  thoughts.  The  remark  certainly  appeared  to  be 
quite  electrical  iu  its  effect  upon  him,  for  he  sprang  imme 
diately  to  his  feet,  faced  about,  leaned  eagerly  towards  me, 
and,  laying  one  hand  upon  my  shoulders,  and  taking  off 
liis  antique  spectacles  with  the  other,  held  them  at  arm's 
length,  while  he  puffed  vigorously  at  his  pipe,  and  stared 
at  ine  with  his  merry,  twinkling,  gray  eyes.  At  length  he 
inquired,  hesitatingly,  if  he  could  trust  me,  and  receiving 
an  affirmative  reply,  declared  that  he  would  reveal  to  me  a 
wonderful  secret,  if  I  would  follow  him  and  never  open  my 
lips  concerning  what  I  should  see  or  hear. 

So  long  had  we  protracted  our  conversation,  that  it  was 
now  late  in  the  afternoon ;  indeed,  I  had  become  so  inter 
ested  in  my  new  acquaintance  and  his  decidedly  original 
character,  and  had  gathered  such  a  fund  of  information 
from  him,  notwithstanding  his  eccentricities,  that  I  hardly 
noted  the  lapse  of  time.  The  beams  of  the  sinking  sun 
slanted  through  the  forest,  lighting  up  with  transparent 
brilliance,  or  throwing  into  rich  shade,  the  old  trees — 

"  Those  green-robed  senators  of  mighty  woods." 

We  rose  from  the  mossy,  fallen  pine-trunk,  upon  which 
we  had  been  sitting,  and  having  offered  myself  to  carry  a 
part  of  his  scientific  implements,  my  friend  Von  Blitzen 
filled  and  lighted  his  pipe,  and  taking  the  lead,  trudged 
off  towards  his  unknown  home.  He  was,  in  truth,  an  in 
defatigable  little  man,  talking  incessantly  all  the  way  in  a 
highly  transcendental  and  often  finely  imaginative  strain, 
not  without  forgetting  himself,  occasionally,  and  striking 
off  into  a  harangue  of  pure  German,  the  more  unintelligi- 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  207 

ble  to  me  as  I  was  often  forced  to  dodge  very  suddenly  the 
rebounding  boughs  and  brushwood,  through  which  he  fear 
lessly  and  rapidly  pushed  his  way. 

At  length  we  came  to  an  open  glade,  and  the  sound  of 
falling  water  arrested  my  attention.  As  we  emerged  from 
the  wood,  the  open  space  discovered  itself  to  be  a  small, 
narrow  valley,  surrounded  by  forest,  and  cradling  a  large 
stream,  which  fell  at  the  upper  extremity  of  the  vale  in  a 
beautiful  cascade.  By  the  side  of  this,  stood  a  ruined 
mill,  overgrown  with  moss  and  weeds,  its  roof  half  fallen 
in,  and  the  wheel,  broken  and  crumbling,  was  unswung 
from  its  sockets  and  leaned  against  the  building.  Scatter 
ed  through  the  valley,  were  two  or  three  untenanted,  de 
cayed  log-huts ;  the  remains  of  a  rude  bridge  spanned  the 
stream ;  the  fences  were  broken  down,  and  the  road  so  en 
cumbered  with  a  growth  of  bushes,  that  although  I  after 
wards  found  the  locality  to  be  but  four  miles  from  the 

thrifty  village  of  0 ,  and  in  a  country  advancing  in 

population  like  our  own,  yet,  for  some  reason,  this  incipient 
settlement  in  the  heart  of  the  forest  seemed  to  have  been 
abandoned  for  many  long  years. 

Mynheer  Von  Blitzen  turned  to  me,  and  pointing  to  the 
ruined  mill,  exclaimed,  "  There,  sir,  is  my  domicile  and 
laboratory,  and  I  assure  you  it  is  more  pregnant  with  disr 
aster  to  steam  engines,  materia  medica,  and  the  entire  pre 
sent  economy  of  civilization,  than  was  the  wooden  horse  of 
the  Greeks  with  disaster  to  the  Trojans  !"  Nodding  as 
sent  to  this  very  luminous  remark,  I  followed  him  across 
the  stream  and  into  the  mill ;  we  ascended  a  rickety  flight 


208  VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

of  stairs,  and  arriving  at  the  door  of  a  chamber,  the  old 
man  pulled  a  concealed  string  which  lifted  a  bar  within, 
and  gave  us  entrance.  I  entered  and  beheld  a  scene  that 
verily  would  have  rejoiced  the  eyes  of  an  alchemist  of  the 
Middle  Ages,  or  the  rustiest  old  antiquary  of  modern 
days ;  indeed,  had  Von  Blitzcn  lived  a  few  centuries  ago, 
doubtless  he  would  have  died  in  search  of  the  philosopher's 
stone  or  the  alkahest,  but  happening  upon  our  day  most 
fortunately,  he  is  destined,  as  will  be  seen,  to  more  hon 
orable  and  grateful  memory.  There  is,  after  all,  a  spice 
of  monomania — a  tendency  to  wild,  insane  conjecture,  nec 
essary  to  form  the  great  discoverer ;  your  safe,  practical 
men  would  never  have  hit  upon  my  friend  Blundervich's 
curious  theory — much  less  have  carried  it  out  into  actual 
experiment.  Be  this  as  it  may,  I  was  soon  comfortably 
ensconced  in  his  sanctum ;  it  was  a  small  apartment,  dingy 
with  smoke  and  dust,  abundantly  draperied  with  cobwebs, 
filled  with  disorderly  heaps  of  books,  papers,  minerals, 
dried  reptiles,  stuffed  birds,  squirrels,  and  one  or  two 
crocodiles — the  results  of  my  friend's  American  travels ; 
and  upon  rude  shelves  stood  a  variety  of  apparatus  of 
private  manufacture,  such  as  a  galvanic  battery,  formed 
from  a  detached  bucket  of  the  old  mill-wheel ;  and  an 
electrical  machine,  constructed  in  part  of  a  confectioner's 
glass-jar.  But  time  forbids  an  extended  description ;  pos 
terity  must  content  itself  with  this  brief  notice  of  the  man 
and  his  habitudes. 

In  an  hour  or  two,  by  united  efforts,  we  had  built  a 
fire  in  the  large  chimney,  made  of  unhewn  stones ;  dress- 


TON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  209 

ed,  fried  and  dispatched,  with  great  gusto,  some  woodcock 
and  pigeons — the  result  of  Mynheer's  excursions  in  the 
forest — together  with  farinaceous  accompaniments,  and 
several  tankards  of  beer,  the  latter  being  of  course  an  in 
dispensable  item  to  a  German  literatus.  During  all  these 
processes,  my  host  continued  with  ingenuous  volubility  to 
give  me  scraps  of  his  history,  especially  of  his  wanderings 
in  this  country,  concerning  whose  scenery,  scientific  treas 
ures,  and  free  government,  he  was  rapturously  enthusi 
astic  ;  he  also  detailed  how  he  had  accidentally  stumbled 
on  the  deserted  mill,  while  hunting  in  the  woods ;  how, 
fancying  the  idea  of  a  temporary  hermit's  life  in  this 
great  wilderness,  (for  such  he  considered  the  whole  coun 
try)  and  also  the  better  to  conduct  some  experiments,  on 
which  he  had  long  been  pondering,  he  had  taken  posses 
sion  of  the  chamber,  and  moved  several  capacious  trunks- 
full  of  his  effects  hither  ;  how  the  flume  of  the  mill,  by  a 
little  repairing,  would  assist  admirably  in  his  intended  ex 
periments  in  hydropathy,  which  science  he  was  about  to 
carry  to  unprecedented  perfection,  so  as  to  make  it  net  only 
a  panacea  for  all  human  ills,  but  also  a  mighty  step  into  a 
higher  civilization  and  an  earthly  immortality  ;  how,  final 
ly,  fearing  some  accident  might  befall  himself  or  his  abode, 
he  had  long  wished  for  a  trusty,  sympathizing  friend,  to 
whom  he  could  unveil  the  secret  of  his  retreat  and  his  pro 
found  plans  of  operation.  In  fact,  my  eccentric  host,  hav 
ing  almost  entirely  shut  himself  out  from  the  society  of 
his  species  for  a  long  time,  seemed  to  have  accumulated  an 
inexhaustible  fund  of  conversation,  the  relieving  himself  of 


210  VON  BLITZ  EN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

which  cost  him  no  further  effort  than  to  put  his  tongue  for 
once  in  motion. 

The  night,  although  in  September,  proved  chill  and 
stormy ;  we  renewed  the  not  unwelcome  fire,  and,  sup 
plied  each  with  a  meerschaum,  which  Mynheer  had  brought 
from  his  father-land,  and  abundant  store  of  the  fragrant 
weed,  procured  far  in  the  sunny  South  by  himself,  we 
threw  ourselves  back  at  our  ease  in  roomy  arm-chairs  which 
my  good  philosopher,  with  a  regard  to  luxury  quite  in 
consistent  with  his  amateur  hermit-life,  had  constructed  of 
loose  boards,  and  lined  with  rich  buffalo  robes — trophies 
of  a  tour  of  his  on  the  western  prairies. 

And  now  did  the  immortal  BLUNDERVICH  YON  BLITZEN 
first  pause  in  portentous  silence,  and  giving  a  few  slow, 
magnificent  puffs  at  his  pipe,  prepare  to  disclose  the  great 
secret  of  his  soul — a  revelation  for  which  I  had  waited  with 
continually  sharpening  curiosity.  He  began  with  a 
lengthy,  formal  eulogium  on  Mesmer,  the  father  of  the 
science  of  Animal  Magnetism,  and  passed  from  him  to 
Priessnitz,  the  great  doctor  of  Grafenberg ;  after  dwelling 
long  and  magniloquently  on  their  achievements,  he  struck 
off  into  metaphysics,  and  grew  so  animated  and  transcen 
dental  at  every  puff  of  his  meerschaum,  that  I  could  get 
little  more  than  a  confused  impression  of  his  meaning.  T 
would  gladly  give  his  discourse  verbatim,  but  it  has  van 
ished  from  my  memory  like  a  gorgeous  dream  or  sunset 
cloud,  leaving  only  a  meager  residuum.  He  proceeded  to 
state — and  you  must  allow  a  half-hour  for  his  own  elabo 
ration  of  each  statement — that  the  principle  of  life  is  elec- 


TON  BLITZENS  EXPERIMENT.  '211 

tricitj,  or  magnetism,  or  electro-magnetism  ;  that  the  think 
ing  principle  or  soul  inhabits  this,  and  through  it  acts  upon 
the  muscular  system  ;  that  this  connection  of  the  immate 
rial  conscious  essence  with  the  most  subtile  form  of  matter 
— magnetism — gives  to  the  latter  defined  form,  permanen 
cy  and  inseperable  cohesion,  while  it  still  leaves  it  the  elas 
tic  property  of  the  fluid  as  generated  by  artificial  appara 
tus  ;  that  death  is  a  separation  of  the  pure  thinking  princi 
ple  from  the  mass  or  body  of  magnetism,  taking  from  it 
its  permanent  and  internally  cohesive  property,  and  leaving 
it  in  the  muscular  structure,  ever  after  to  be  divisible  and 
evanescent,  like  the  same  fluid  in  its  free  state,  uncom- 
pounded  with  mind, — in  fact,  entering  into  that  state  ;  that 
nothing  now  remains  but  to  anticipate  our  dissolution  by 
carefully  separating  or  eliminating  the  entire  cohesive  mass 
of  individual  magnetism,  thus  keeping  that  and  the  soul  in 
indissoluble  connection,  whereas,  in  the  common  course  of 
things,  there  must  eventually  be  a  violent  disruption  of 
them,  the  escaping  soul  being  unable  to  segregate  the  mag 
netic  or  fluid  body  from  the  deceased  muscular  and  osseous 
body ;  that  this  separation  of  the  two,  leaving  the  soul  still 
connected  with  the  former,  may  be  gradually  and  success 
fully  accomplished  by  a  long-continued  subjection  to  the 
"douche  bath"  employed  in  the  Water  Cure — in  other 
words  by  exposing  one's  self  to  a  stream  of  water,  falling 
from  a  spout  in  the  ceiling  of  a  room,  until  every  particle 
of  the  gross  body  of  nerves,  blood,  flesh  and  bones,  is  worn 
away  and  carried  off  by  the  action  of  water,  leaving  the 
magnetic  fluid  body  free»  yet  associated  with  the  mind ; 


212  YON  BLITZEl's  EXPERIMENT. 

that  in  this  state  we  can  assume  any  shape  when  passing 
through  conducting  substances,  but  will  invariably  return 
to  a  form  similar  to  that  of  our  present  visible  bodies,  while 
free  to  assume  that  form  in  a  non-conducting  receptacle,  so 
that  we  can  be  elongated  to  a  thread-like  linear  condition 
in  passing  through  telegraphic  wire,  and  be  received  at  the 
termination  of  the  wire  in  an  air-tight,  flexible  shell,  armor, 
dress,  or  bag,  composed  of  a  non-conductor, — for  instance, 
pasteboard,  silk,  cotton,  hair,  india  rubber,  or  glass, — the 
armor  or  sack  being  of  the  human  shape,  so  that  the  mag 
netic  body  may  just  fill  and  be  fitted  to  it,  and  thus  move 
about  and  act  upon  external  matter  as  now ;  the  fluid  body, 
by  its  association  with  the  conscious,  voluntary  soul,  still 
retaining  its  motive,  active  powers  ! 

The  profound  Von  Blitzen  was  now  fairly  in  nubibus, 
and,  throwing  back  his  head,  and  pufling  away  more  vehe 
mently  than  ever,  he  launched  into  a  glowing  picture  of  the 
world,  when  our  diseased,  dying,  and,  with  all  the  miracles 
of  steam,  slow-traveling  race  should  be  freed  and  washed 
clean  of  these  aching  bodies,  and  jumping  instantaneously 
through  the  magnetic  telegraph  to  any  conceivable  distance 
at  pleasure  ;  he  even  suggested  that  we  might  possibly  be 
able  to  travel  to  and  from  the  sun  and  stars,  through  the 
magnetic  ray  of  light  detected  by  the  prism.  He  consid 
ered  india  rubber  shells  or  dresses,  moreover,  better  and 
more  durable  than  any  other  non-conductor, — perhaps,  as 
they  had  recently,  in  Europe,  invented  malleable  glass, 
that  substance  might  be  made  sufficiently  ductile  and  elas 
tic,  and,  if  so,  a  whole  crowd  would  be  perfectly  transpa- 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  231 

rent,  and  no  man  be  in  another's  light ;  and  then  he  would 
have  a  great  quantity  and  variety  of  these  suits  of  armor, 
or  rather  artificial  bodies,  at  every  telegraph  office,  to  re 
ceive  the  spiritualized  passengers,  there  to  be  left  also  when 
they  departed  through  the  wires ;  and  then,  too,  we  might 
have  artificial  palates  and  lungs  for  talking,  or  one  person 
might  pass  directly  into  another's  hollow  body,  thus  inter 
mingling  and  interchanging  thought  by  silent,  immediate, 
felt  communion, — certainly,  with  glass  eyes,  we  should 
have  no  difficulty  in  seeing,  as  the  soul  is  alone  truly  and 
all  sensitive ;  and  as  for  the  other  senses,  such  powers  would 
be  for  the  most  part  superfluous,  having  no  more  occasion 
for  fuel,  food,  nor,  indeed,  sleep !  Upon  this,  his  thoughts 
returned  to  himself,  and  feeling,  doubtless,  that  he  had 
justly  earned  immortal  fame  by  so  splendid  and  benevolent 
a  discovery,  he  exclaimed,  "Ah,  how  will  posterity  then 
regard  me?"  Glad  of  some  relief  to  an  incontrollable 
sense  of  the  ludicrous  that  had  gradually  crept  over  me,  I 
sprang  to  my  feet,  and,  seizing  his  hand,  shouted,  "  Im 
mortal  Von  Blitzen  !  immortal  Von  Blitzen  !" 

Reassured  by  applause,  our  philosopher  struck  off  at  a 
fresh  gallop  upon  Leibnitz'  theory  of  monads,  and  Bosco- 
vich's  conjecture  that  matter  is  only  a  congeries  of  attract 
ing  points,  asserting  his  belief  that  these  immaterial  mon 
ads  or  points  might  be  made  perfectly  mobile,  so  that  any 
body  could  be  drawn  out  into  a  mathematical  line,  for  con 
venience  in  telegraphic  transportation  ;  or,  otherwise,  that 
any  substance,  merchandise,  houses,  even  sphinxes,  obe 
lisks  and  the  Pyramids,  as  well  as  men  and  animals,  might 


214  TON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

be  subjected  to  bis  thorough-going  Water  Cure,  and  become 
so  clarified  from  gross  matter,  so  liquefied,  or  rather  ethe- 
realized,  as  to  be  easily  run  through  the  electro-magnetic 
telegraph,  and  afterwards,  returning  by  some  occult  law  to 
their  original  shape,  be  re-endued  with  their  visible  and 
tangible  properties  by  a  possible  process  yet  undiscovered, 
— a  process  similar  to  that  of  petrifaction,  only  more  rapid. 
At  this  point,  from  the  reaction  of  my  long-sustained  and 
now  both  gratified  and  disappointed  curiosity,  as  well  as  in 
consequence  of  the  lateness  of  the  hour  and  the  fatiguing 
influences  of  the  day,  I  fairly  laughed  myself  asleep. 

The  sun  had  long  been  shining  through  chinks  in  the 
crazy  old  building,  when  I  awoke  and  proceeded  to  arouse 
Mynheer  Von  Blitzen,  who  had  probably  talked  himself 
asleep  long  after  I  became  unconscious,  and  was  now  sno 
ring  away  at  as  persevering  and  glorious  a  rate  as  he  had 
talked.  We  breakfasted  on  cold  pigeon  and  buiscuit,  and 
before  I  resumed  my  journey,  my  host,  as  voluble  concer 
ning  his  great  projects  as  on  the  night  before,  showed  me 
the  apparatus  by  which  he  intended  to  carry  them  into  ef 
fect.  It  consisted  of  a  branch  from  the  repaired  flume  of 
the  mill,  leading  into  his  room,  where  it  protruded  from  the 
ceiling  and  was  stopped  by  a  facet ;  this  was  his  inexhaust 
ible  "douche  bath,"  which,  by  its  continued  action,  was 
to  disintegrate  his  visible  from  his  magnetic  inner  body. 
Beneath  this  stood  a  large  box,  in  which  he  was  to  sit  ex 
posed  to  the  falling  stream ;  the  bottom  was  perforated  with 
holes  to  admit  the  escape  of  the  water  and  of  his  material 
structure,  as  fast  as  it  was  worn  away ;  from  this,  ran  a 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT.  215 

conducting  wire,  to  receive  his  fluid  body,  so  soon  as  it 
was  wholly  emancipated  from  the  flesh ;  the  wire  was 
stretched  upon  glass  knobs  in  the  walls,  and,  passing  seve 
ral  times  around  the  room,  (to  make  the  experiment  more 
satisfactory,  and  give  greater  variety  to  his  first  telegraphic 
journey,)  terminated  in  a  suit  of  armor  or  artificial  body, 
which  was  to  take  the  place  of  his  troublesome  flesh  and 
bones.  This  was  simply  a  hollow  pasteboard  shell — a  fac 
simile  of  himself — jointed  together  with  hinges  of  silk,  (a 
non-conductor  like  the  paper)  and  having  glass  eyes,  where- 
from  the  etherealized  Blitzen  could  look  abroad ;  it  was 
also  lined  with  tinfoil  throughout,  like  a  Leyden  jar, — our 
experimenter  not  yet  being  certain  whether  the  freed  and 
soul-inhabited  body  of  human  magnetism  would  expand  to 
its  original  shape  in  its  former  animal  body,  or  would  be 
take  itself  to  surfaces,  like  common  electricity. 

After  examining  all  these  with  a  believing  and  inter 
ested  air,  I  bade  my  good  friend  adieu,  promising  to  be  at 
the  mill  just  four  months  therefrom,  by  which  time  he 
calculated  his  experiment  would  be  completed,  so  that  he 
.  would  be  able  to  receive  me  in  his  glorified,  pasteboard 
state. 

"  Ah  !  my  fond  philosopher,"  thought  I,  "  your  douche 
bath  will  give  you  a  damper — a  chilling  dissuasion  from 
your  foolhardy  purpose,  long  before  you  can  carry  it  into 
execution."  Ah  !  little  did  I  appreciate  the  self-denying 
and  quenchless  courage  of  the  devoted  Von  Blitzen,  or 
think  that  I  had  shaken  his  honest  fleshy  hand  for  the 
last  time  !  Nevertheless,  as  the  months  slipped  away,  I 


216  VON  BLITZBN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

could  not  but  fancy  him  sitting  patiently  under  his 
cold,  hard-pouring  bath,  and  gradually  dissected  by  the 
sharp,  cutting  torrent — first  denuded  of  his  epidermis, 
next  his  muscles  and  veins  laid  bare  and  ghastly  as  a 
manikin,  then  a  mere  fibrous  mass  of  nerves  and  liga 
ments,  then  a  skeleton,  and,  at  last,  every  bone  washed 
away,  leaping  ecstatically  through  the  conducting  wires 

of  his  telegraph. 

*  *  *  *  *  * 

The  snow  was  upon  the  ground,  and  sprinkled  over  the 
leafless  forest-trees,  when,  punctual  to  my  engagement,  I 
turned  aside  from  a  journey  through  the  same  region,  to 
visit  the  ruined  mill.  As  I  approached  it  alone,  on  a 
bright  winter  evening,  I  saw  that  the  snow  was  untrodden 
in  the  little  secluded  valley  and  around  the  building,  and 
I  trembled  to  think  that  my  worthy  friend  might  long 
since  have  been  frozen  to  death,  or  perished  by  some  fatal 
accident.  A  cold  tremor  crept  over  me  as  I  unbarred  the 
chamber  door,  and,  catching  the  sound  of  falling  water, 
stepped  into  the  chill,  silent  apartment ;  then,  turning 
around,  I  distinguished  one  after  an  other  the  chests,  speci 
mens,  apparatus  and  furniture,  in  the  same  state  that  I 
saw  them  four  months  before.  Finally,  with  a  shudder, 
I  cast  a  look  into  the  perforated  box,  beneath  the  douche 
bath ;  the  water  was  pouring  furiously  down,  and  in  a 
mass  of  foam  at  the  bottom — lay  the  poor  man's  antique 
spectacles  ! 

The  thought  flashed  through  my  mind  that  the  daunt 
less  Von  Blitzen  had  fulfilled  his  resolution,  and  involun- 


VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPJSKIMBNT.  217 

tarily  I  looked  around  to  find  him  standing  in  his  artifi 
cial  body.  I  was  not  disappointed,  for  at  that  instant  he 
advanced  from  a  corner  of  the  room — positively  advanced, 
not  in  his  once  venerable  and  merry-looking  flesh  and  blood, 
but  in  the  pasteboard  shell,  his  step  easy  and  firm,  his  glass 
eyes  glowing  with  a  blue,  inner,  electric  light,  and  the 
paper  breast  and  sides  heaving  and  shaking,  as  if  his 
spiritualized  body  were  convulsed  with  laughter.  I  stag 
gered  with  terror  against  the  wall. 

Of  my  gradual  recovery  and  feelings  long  tumultuous, 
I  leave  imagination  to  supply  the  detail,  while  I  hasten  to 
the  conclusion  of  this  most  veritable  disclosure.     I  was 
soon  on  the  same  familiar  terms  with  this  great  modern  dis 
coverer,  though  not  without  a  double  awe  from  sitting  in 
the  presence  of  such  a  genius,  and  so  metamorphosed  and 
embodied.     The  figure,  after  extending  its  hollow  hand 
and  pressing  mine  with  silent  congratulation,  sat  down  and 
wrote  some  paragraphs  to  the  effect  that  he  (Von  B.)  had 
just  substituted  a  few  inches  of  small  hair-wire,  at  a  certain 
point  in  the  telegraph,   for  the  purpose   of  ascertaining 
through  hoW  small  a  conductor  he  could  pass  in  his  present 
state,  having  accomplished  an  instantaneous  transit  through 
the  large  wire  when  first  freed,  the  day  before,  from  his 
former  gross  body  ;  also  informing  me  that  he  had  prepa 
red  another  artificial  body  (connected  with  one  end  of  the 
wire)  into  which,  after  making  the  tour  of  the  chamber — 
in  fact  passing  five  times  around— he  would  enter,  leaving 
the  armor  he  then  inhabited  to  collapse  and  fall,  immedi 
ately  on  his  darting  into  the  end  of  the  telegraph.     Curi- 

10 


218  VON  BLITZEN'S  EXPERIMENT. 

ous  to  see  this  sudden  change  of  place  and  dress,  or  rather 
body,  I  watched  him  as  he  passed  the  nearest  end  of  the 
•wire  through  the  silken  joints  of  his  paper  fingers ;  in  an 
instant  his  first  receptacle  collapsed ;  the  corresponding 
one  at  the  other  extremity  was  not  moved  and  inflated  by 
his  presence  ;  no,  the  bit  of  intervening  hair-wire  upon  the 
opposite  wall,  through  which  he  trusted  safely  to  pass,  afe 
the  self-same  instant  glowed  with  white  heat — melted — 
dropped  !  I  seized  the  light  and  ran  to  the  spot ;  an  up 
right  beam  of  wood  in  the  wall  at  that  point  was  scorched 
and  shivered  to  the  floor ;  I  ran  down  into  the  lower  apart 
ment  ;  the  same  terrible  effect  was  visible  to  the  very 
ground,  which,  ploughed  up  a  little  way  from  the  beam, 
lay  all  beyond  undisturbed  beneath  the  moonlit  snow ! 
The  daring  philosopher  had  involuntarily  escaped  beyond 
recovery;  he  had  perished  a  sacrifice  to  science.  Of 
course  a  Coroner's  inquest  was  entirely  out  of  the  question. 


LEGEND  OF  THE  LONE  ISLAND. 


A  FEW  summers  since,  a  friend  and  myself  were  walk 
ing  on  the  shore  of  Cayuga  Lake,  nearly  opposite  the 
small  island  that  lies  several  miles  above  the  outlet,  and 
faces  the  thriving  village  of  Union  Springs.  It  is  a  circu 
lar  plot  of  ground,  bordered  with  trees  and  rocks,  a  half 
mile  from  the  main  land,  and  lends  a  very  picturesque  va 
riety  to  this  part  of  the  Lake.  "We  were  armed  with  stone- 
hammers  and  baskets,  and  had  undertaken  the  excursion 
for  the  purpose  of  collecting  specimens  of  rocks  and  fos 
sils — a  pursuit  for  which  my  companion  has  an  unbounded 
enthusiasm  that  often  expressed  itself  in  extravagant  ex 
clamations  and  gestures  of  joy,  whenever  he  stumbled 
on  an  unusually  perfect  fragment  of  the  various  delicate 
petrifactions  that  abound  in  the  limestone  of  the  region. 

My  mineralogical  friend  is  a  thorough  theorist,  with  all 
the  hypotheses  of  world-builders  at  his  tongue's  end,  and, 


220  LEGEND  OF  TI1E  LONE  ISLAND. 

asit  appeared  to  me,  disposed  to  give  unlimited  credence 
to  the  most  wild  or  contradictory  suppositions.  Like  many 
men  of  similar  tastes,  he  is  very  skeptical  concerning  any 
supernatural  explanation  of  things,  and  therefore  he  must 
indemnify  himself  for  his  unbelief  in  the  common  and 
reverent  notions  of  people,  by  yielding  to  a  ready  super 
stition  in  all  the  far  more  visionary  theories  of  the  scien 
tific  :  indeed,  it  may  be  set  down  as  a  curious  truth  that 
the  man  of  science — the  dealer  in  "  facts" — the  stern 
questioner  of  Nature — is  often  more  credulous  than  the 
ignorant.  Having  myself  little  passion  for  his  favorite 
study,  I  was,  at  the  moment,  contending  earnestly  against 
his  notions  of  the  earth's  creation,  when  we  suddenly  hap 
pened  upon  an  old  man,  sitting  by  the  water's  edge.  He 
held  in  his  hand  a  fishing  rod,  but  it  lay  idly  in  the  water, 
and  he  was  intently  gazing  in  the  direction  of  the  island, 
so  that  our  approach  was  unnoticed  until  we  shouted  close 
by  his  deaf  ears.  Starting  from  his  reverie,  he  entered 
into  conversation,  and  before  we  left  him,  furnished  some 
information  which  may  be  put  in  the  form  of  a  connected 
narrative. 

"I  came  into  this  country,"  said  he,  "just  before  the  white 
settlements  were  planted  here ;  having  ingratiated  myself 
•with  the  natives,  I  learned  their  language,  lived  according 
to  their  modes,  and  hunted  and  trapped  from  the  Mohawk 
to  Lake  Erie.  It  is  sixty  years  ago  this  season,  since  I 
came  to  this  lake  to  winter  with  the  Cayugas ;  and  just  as 
you  happened  along,  I  was  thinking  of  a  tradition,  told  me 


LEGEND  OS  THE  LOME  ISLAND.  221 

by  the  Indian  medicine-man,  concerning  that  little  island 
yonder. 

He  said  that  the  Cayugas  and  the  Senecas,  a  great 
many  snows  gone  by,  were  at  war.  The  latter  tribe  had 
trespassed  on  the  fishing  ground  of  the  former,  and 
killed  some  of  the  Cayugas  in  the  ensuing  quarrel,  where 
upon  a  general  contest  arose. 

The  head-chief  of  the  Cayugas  was  too  aged  and  infirm 
to  join  a  warlike  expedition  ;  and  therefore  he,  with  his 
beautiful  daughter  Ulola,  remained,  with  the  women  and 
children  of  the  tribe,  at  home,  while  all  the  warriors  left 
to  go  around  by  the  outlet,  and  make  a  midnight  attack  on 
the  Seneca  village ;  they  were  to  lurk  in  the  woods  and 
seize  the  first  opportunity. 

Meantime  the  boldest  warrior  of  the  enemy,  with  a  few 
young  comrades  who  wished  to  distinguish  themselves  in 
battle,  unaware  of  the  Cayuga  expedition,  came  across 
the  lake  in  canoes  at  night,  and  finding  the  camp  unde 
fended,  fell  upon  it,  and  slaughtered  many  of  the  inhabit 
ants.  The  old  chief  hurried  away,  only  stopping  to  look 
in  vain  for  his  daughter.  At  sunrise,  he  reconnoitord  the 
camp,  and  finding  the  enemy  gone,  he  returned  with  fear 
ful  presages  of  the  death  of  the  maiden  ;  but  'what  was 
his  surprise  after  all  the  fugitives  were  collected,  to  dis 
cover  no  trace  of  Ulola. 

At  sunset,  the  next  day,  the  villagers  were  suddenly  at 
tracted  by  the  sight  of  a  boat  leaving  the  opposite  shore, 
and,  soon  after,  another,  as  if  in  pursuit.  As  they  neared 
this  side,  the  aged  chief  saw  that  the  second  gained  on  the 


222  LEGEND  OF  THE  LONE  ISLAND. 

first,  and  it  was  not  long  before  he  recognized  Ulola  in  tbe 
latter,  together  with  a  young  brave  who  was  betrothed  to 
her,  and  who  now  rapidly  made  known  to  the  father,  by 
signs,  that  he  had  rescued  the  maiden  from  the  Seneca 
camp,  and  was  pursued  by  the  same  chief  who  had  carried 
her  away  the  night  previous.  It  was  only  after  the  Cayu- 
ga's  paddle  broke  in  his  grasp,  that  he  signified  this  by 
those  gestures  so  well  understood  among  the  Indians.  So 
soon  as  the  old  man  saw  that  all  hope  of  escape  had  failed, 
agonized  at  the  danger  of  his  daughter,  he  raised  his  trem 
bling  hands  to  heaven,  and  silently  prayed.  Instantly  the 
Cayuga  canoe,  with  its  lovely  freight,  was  gently  lifted 
from  the  water  by  an  unseen  power,  and  sailed  safely 
through  the  air  towards  the  shore ;  and  as  suddenly  the 
sky  was  darkened — a  deafening  roar  and  splash  in  the  wa 
ter  were  heard :  and,  when  all  had  subsided,  the  pursuers 
were  not  to  be  seen,  the  lovers  were  in  the  arms  of  the  old 
chief,  and  yonder  island,  for  the  first  time,  appeared  above 
the  surface.  The  Great  Spirit  had  heard  the  prayer,  torn 
that  island  from  the  hills,  cast  it  into  the  lake,  and  buried 
the  revengeful  Seneca  warrior  beneath  it. 

The  old  fisherman  here  ceased,  only  adding  fervently  : 
" and  I  believe  it;  the  Indian  traditions  are  as  true  as 
their  word ;  their  legends  are  faithfully  handed  down  from 
father  to  son,  through  centuries." 

"  Fudge  !"  said  my  geological  friend,  pounding  a  boul 
der  with  his  hammer, — "and  yet  there  might  have  been 
some  foundation  for  the  story  ;  a  meteoric  stone  may  have 
fallen,  and  the  swell  raised  thereby,  have  upset  a  light  ca- 


LEGEND  OF  THE  LONE  ISLAND.  223 

noe — such  stones  have  fallen  weighing  thousands  of 
pounds.  And  as  for  the  island,  it  is  evident  from  indica 
tions  at  the  head  of  the  lake,  that  the  water  long  ago  sub 
sided  from  its  original  height  by  many  feet,  so  that,  about 
the  time  referred  to,  it  is  quite  possible  the  island  may  have 
made  its  appearance,  by  reason  of  the  decrease  of  the 
water." 

It  would  have  been  a  waste  of  breath,  to  answer  such 
a  man  in  any  other  words  than  those  of  Campbell — 

"  When  Science  from  Creation's  face 

Enchantment's  veil  withdraws, 
What  lovely  visions  yield  their  place, 

To  cold  material  laws." 


MOULTING  OF  MIND. 


In  all  the  forms  of  nature,  we  see  change,  progress, 
transition.  The  earth  itself  passed  through  chaotic,  vol 
canic,  and  various  preparatory  states,  before  it  reached  its 
highest  organizations.  And  now,  in  the  animal  world,  we 
see  the  moulting  processes  by  which  the  bird  casts  its 
feathers,  the  serpent  its  slough,  the  deer  his  horns.  In  the 
human  body,  there  are  growth  and  changes  corresponding 
somewhat  to  this  ;  and  it  is  reasonable  to  think  that  there 
is  a  successive  development,  also,  of  the  faculties  of  the 
mind.  To  some  degree,  we  observe  and  are  conscious  of 
it,  as  an  actual  fact ;  but  men  do  not  seem  to  regard  it  as 
a  natural  and  necessary  one,  and  to  adapt  our  systems  of 
early  culture  accordingly.  It  appears  to  be  generally  ta 
ken  for  granted,  that  any  .one  or  all  of  the  mental  capabili 
ties  can  be  developed  in  infancy,  and  thus  on  through  ear 
ly  and  later  youth.  This  wrong  assumption  is  perhaps  the 
secret  of  the  "forcing  systems"  of  past  and  present  times. 


MOULTING  0!  MIND.  225 

It  is  the  unluckiest  moment  of  more  than  one  urchin's 
life,  when,  at  the  frolicking  age  of  seven,  having  got  the 
sing-song  inflections  of  certain  Latin  nouns  and  verbs  in 
his  head,  by  overhearing  others  recite  them,  he  suddenly 
astonishes  his  friends  by  repeating  whole  declensions  of 
"musa,"  "hie,"  and  "  amo;"  from  that  hour  the  little 
pedant  is  forced  to  personate  a  childish  cobler,  with  a  La 
tin  grammar  for  a  lapstone,   or  a  plaster  Cupid,  gazing  in 
tently  on  a  plaster  book,  making  really  no  more  progress 
for  years,   than   the  first  could   be   supposed   to    make 
in   geology,   or  the  last   in    literature.      Of    course,    a 
hearty   disgust    is    conceived    for   all    books,    including 
even   those   fairy   tales,    adventures,    and  travels,  which 
are  as  much  the  proper  food  for  small  people,  as  tops  and 
hoops  are  their  suitable  playthings  instead  of  saws,  spades, 
and  ploughs.     Such  an  unfortunate  being  seldom  awakes 
to  the  necessity  of  thoroughly  fitting  himself  for  college  ; 
or  if,  a  year  or  two  before  that  long  anticipated  event,  he 
does  arouse  to  the  work,  he  may  well  say  with  .ZEneas— 
"  You  renew  my  grief,  0  Queen."     He   has   slept  away 
his  childhood  over  unsuitable  books,  and  will  sleep  away 
his  collegehood  over  the  same,  when  the  proper  time  to 
study  them  has  come ;  and,  besides,  having  never  had  time 
and  encouragement  to  exhaust  the  glorious  fields  of  choice, 
juvenile  romance,  he  has  still  the  ungratified  yearnings  of 
a  child,  and  will  plunge  indiscriminately  into  the  sea  of 
popular  fiction. 

Happily  there  is  now  a  growing  conviction,  that  a  boy 
ought  never  to  look  into  a  Latin  or  Greek  grammar  or  lex- 

10* 


226  MOULTING  OF  MIND. 

icon,  until  two  or  three  years  before  he  enters  the  univer 
sity  ;  then  he  will  take  them  up  freshly,  and  with  a  zest 
that  will  outweigh  any  minor  disadvantages  of  postponing 
so  long  his  direct  preparation.  We  want  no  drilling  Blim- 
bers  and  idiotic  Toots — no  more  of  the  obsolete  "  hot-house 
system."  There  are  natural  and  successive,  transitional 
states  of  the  growing  mind.  There  is,  first,  the  age  of  im 
pressions — of  fleeting  images,  when  the  jumbled  words  of 
Mother  Goose's  Melodies  are  as  good  as  anything ;  nay, 
even  then,  the  imagination — that  most  divine  faculty — may 
be  nourished,  as  well  as  quickness  of  perception,  which  is 
the  first  power  to  be  acquired ;  the  infant  eye  may  be 
taught  to  "glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to 
heaven,"  as  it,  in  fancy,  follows  the  old  woman  "sweep 
ing  the  sky,"  the  cow  jumping  "  over  the  moon,"  and  the 
man  "  into  a  barberry  bush."  Then  comes  the  period  of 
pure  fancy,  (the  brain  being  still  too  weak  to  tax  the  mem 
ory  much,)  and  the  child  should  wander  at  will  in  all  the 
Arcadian  scenes  of  romance,  and  load  itself  with  the  wealth 
of  all  beautiful  things;  let  the  "Arabian  Nights,"  U  Gul 
liver,"  &.c.,  be  the  text-books, — afterwards  veritable  trav 
els  and  biography.  As  youth  dawns  and  advances,  and 
the  -wayward  fancy  of  childhood  gives  place  to  higher 
thoughts  and  stronger  power  of  retention,  history  and  poe 
try  will  best  meet  the  intellectual  want.  Thus,  a  world-wide 
curiosity  being  in  a  measure  sated,  and  thought  awakened, 
it  will  be  time  enough  to  unfold  the  necessity  and  use  of 
drier  and  severer  studies — to  enter  on  language  and  the 
middle  branches  of  mathematics,  taking  it  for  granted  that 


MOULTING  OF  MIND.  227 

common  school  books  have  been  mastered,   at  any  time 
during  the  long  previous  period.     The  end,  the  use  of 
things,  must  be,  to  some  extent,  seen  and  felt,  before  the 
means — the  indispensable  disciplinary  branches  of  study, 
can  be  appreciated ;  and  it  is  better  that  reflection  and  fan 
cy  be  germinated  before,  than  simultaneously  with  these ; 
the  attention  will  be  less  diverted.     Until  these  powers  are 
more  or  less  developed,  the  boy  is  an  animal — nothing  hu 
man  but  the  form ;  and  an  animal  cannot  be  a  true  linguist 
or  mathematician,  however  it  may  learn  to  repeat  "  dead 
vocables,"  as  Carlyle  calls  them.     The  man,  when  at  last 
born  in  College,  of  course  makes  a  desperate  dive  for  the 
Libraries ;  before  that,  he  might  as  well  have  been  a  quad 
ruped,  and  eaten  grass.     Nor  need  it  be  feared  that  the 
mind  will  become  dissipated  in  childhood  by  "  light"  read 
ing,  (which  is  surely  better  than  dark  reading)  ;  at  worst, 
better  be  it  dissipated,  than  have  none  to  dissipate ;  or  first 
get  one  at  college,  to  become  so  afterwards.     Let  children 
be  children,  and  then  men  will  be  men. 

This  then  would  be  our  successive  genesis  of  mind,  were 
there  room  to  develop  it — first  perception,  then  fancy, 
next  memory,  and  lastly  reason — an  order  that  is  exactly 
inverted  so  far  as  our  observation  goes ;  children  are  made 
to  begin  as  philosophers  and  come  out,  in  the  end,  fools. 

The  same  remarks  will  apply  to  the  study  of  the  sci 
ences.  It  is  the  boast  of  our  day  that  the  child  is  familiar 
with  the  results  of  a  life  of  philosophical  investigation — that 
a  school-boy  is  wise  as  Newton.  Every  thing  is  simpli 
fied  ;  Astronomy,  Chemistry,  Geology,  and  Mental,  Moral, 


228  MOULTING  OF  MIND. 

and  Natural  Philosophy  are  taught  in  nice  little  primers. 
But  has  not  many  a  man  regretted  that  he  ever  heard  of 
the  ologies — the  sciences,  before  he  took  up  Olmsted,  Lyell, 
Stewart,  and  Upham  ?  All  the  freshness  of  a  new  field  of 
knowledge  is  gone,  before  he  comes  to  his  Academical  and 
Collegiate  vade  mecums  ;  and  a  conceit  of  knowledge  is 
generated,  when,  in  fact,  the  "  outlines"  and  "  elements" 
are  not  at  all  mastered.  The  prevailing  system  in  common 
schools  and  academies  may  be  well  enough  for  those  who 
are  not  designed  for  the  university  ;  but  for  those  who  are, 
we  beg  that  every  thing  come  in  its  own  order.  Let  not 
an  infant  be  required  to  "  stand  up  and  tell  the  gentleman 
what  he  knoios  /"  let  it  tell  what  it  sees  and  hears ;  let  the 
child  tell  you  a  story — the  youth  what  of  men  and  things 
he  has  read ;  in  later  youth,  let  him  conjugate  and  trans 
late  ;  let  the  Junior  talk  of  sciences,  and  the  Senior  ana 
lyze,  generalize,  and  grow  exceeding  wise  concerning  "the 
Will,"  "  volitions,"  and  "  subjective  and  objective  states." 
There  is  a  time  for  everything.  Above  all,  there  must  be 
time  for  physical  development ;  and  so  that  a  strong  man 
hood  be  knit  and  hardened,  it  matters  but  little,  compara 
tively,  what  finds  lodgment  in  the  head.  In  urging  the 
foregoing  considerations,  our  chief  point  is,  that  such  a 
range  of  thought  be  opened  to  the  mind  as  may  be  homo 
geneous  to  its  years  and  the  distinguishing  capacity  of  its 
several  periods ;  not  a  higher  range,  however  it  may  be 
lowered  and  simplified  to  the  comprehension.  And  per 
haps  the  soul's  own  sentiment,  if  left  free  and  supplied 


MOULTING  OP  MIND.  229 

with  the  means,  will  direct  better  than  any  formal  system. 
There  may  be  more  uniform  and  universal  education  at  this 
day,  but  it  is  doubtful  whether  many  minds  are  now  suffer 
ed  to  expand  into  their  full  stature  and  native  proportions. 
We  "  grow"  them,  and  therefore  do  not  let  them  grow. 

And  as  for  the  imagination,  often  so  carefully  repressed, 
it  can  be  proved  to  be  the  most  important  and  lofty  power 
of  the  soul — the  faculty  that  makes  all  acquisitions  our 
own,  leads  on  to  discoveries,  projects  itself  in  business 
schemes,  and  gives  shape  and  life  to  the  driest  mental  pro 
ductions  that  yet  are  of  organic  growth.  It  is  not  the 
dreaming  power  alone  ;  nor  the  exclusive  gift  of  creative 
genius.  It  is  both  the  steam  and  engineer  of  the  whole 
mental  machine ;  and  this  truth  will  yet  be  appreciated. 

In  connection  with  this  subject,  we  have  a  thought  or 
two  on  systems  of  reading.  We  have  known  several  exem 
plary  young  men,  who,  from  boyhood,  religiously  follow  ed 
a  line  of  reading  prescribed  by  some  benevolent  parent, 
guardian,  teacher,  or  pastor,  and,  afterwards,  by  a  profes 
sor  or  president ;  and  sure  we  are^t  extinguished  every 
spark,  if  ever  they  had  any,  of  liberality  and  originality. 
They  are  now  not  producers,  nor  hardly  manufacturers  of 
thought,  though  moving  in  professional  life ;  mere  buyers 
and  sellers  of  second-hand  ideas,  they  cannot  affirm  that 
they  have  a  soul  of  their  own.  We  cannot  look  at  them 
as  living  men  of  flesh  and  blood,  but  only  as  walking  broad 
cloth  satchels  filled  with  "  Index  Rerums"  and  "  Elegant 
Extracts;"  and  we  are,  every  moment,  in  nervous  expec 
tation  of  seeing  their  buttons  fly  off.  and  the  whole  effigy  of 


"30  MOCLTIKG  OF  MIND. 

a  man  tumble  into  a  ruinous  heap  of  text-books.  There 
are  only  two  legitimate  ways  to  read  ;  one  is  to  read  up, 
or  "cram"  on  some  subject,  concerning  which  the  curiosity 
is  excited,  or  the  individual  intends  to  write  ;  the  other 
plan  (and  it  must  be  followed  in  all  odd  hours)  is,  to  have 
no  plan,  but  browse  upon  the  printed  leaves.  In  both  of 
these  ways,  and  these  only — will  the  ideas  of  an  author 
"  bite  in"  the  mind,  and  remain  fixed,  like  an  etching  on 
a  copper-plate ;  and  by  the  first  mode,  especially,  will 
thought  be  fused  and  become  incorporated  with  the  mind, 
so  as  to  be  "  living  and  ductile,"  the  mind's  own.  A  bare 
course  of  reading  does  not  excite  the  mind's  activities ; 
only  fills  it  with  lumber. 


THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT. 


WE  live  in  a  world  of  sights,  sounds,  and  surfaces. 
We  awake  in  the  morning,  and  look  forth  on  this  familiar 
earth;  the  same  hills  and  trees,  the  same  streets  and 
spires,  the  same  homes  and  friends,  are  all  here  even  as 
yesterday ;  the  buzz  of  life  arouses  about  us,  and  the  world 
and  we  move  on  together,  until  another  hour  of  rest  re 
turns,  and  we  sink  again  into  the  oblivion  of  slumber. 
So  goes  a  day ;  so  goes  a  life.  At  intervals,  indeed,  our 
thoughts  wander  over  the  round  earth  ;  we  think  of  other 
lands, — lands  of  tropical  suns,  or  artic  snows  ;  we  think 
of  far-off  mountains,  towering  and  mist-encircled ;  we 
think  of  the  sleeping  silver  or  the  heaving  sapphire  of 
distant  seas.  Night  glooms  on,  and  the  same  cold  moon 
sails  along  the  sky ;  the  same  stars  are  all  out,  fixed  in 
the  blue  dome  above. 

Sometimes  we  pause  and  wonder  at  those  countless 


232  THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT. 

worlds.  We  call  to  mind  the  revelations  of  modern 
science,  and  endeavor  to  grasp  and  realize  some  of  its  vast 
conceptions.  We  push  off,  in  fancy,  those  giant  suns — off 
to  where  they  should  be,  and  yet  appear  the  mere  needle 
points  they  seem ;  we  call  up  their  viewless  planets,  and 
their  viewless  satellites,  moving  in  mighty  procession 
around  each  faint,  trembling  star.  Then,  perhaps,  we 
glance  over  the  whole  sparkling  heaven  ;  we  summon  up 
the  other  starry  hemisphere  below  our  horizon, — far  down 
beneath  this  solid  globe,  and,  completing  the  enormous 
sphere,  we  just  begin  to  realize  that  we  too  are  standing 
on  a  little  _  star,  and  swinging  free  in  immensity!  But 
we  cannot  stop  here  ;  when  we  have  launched  into  infinity, 
we  must  yield  ourselves  to  the  dizzy  impetus.  We  must 
go  out,  in  telescopic  vision,  far  beyond  our  natural  sight, 
until  we  have  past  the  last  shining  sentinel  of  our  firma 
ment  of  suns,  and  then,  gathering  up  this  mass  of  single 
fixed  stars  in  one  superhuman  grasp,  dash  them  behind  us 
as  a  small,  insignificant  cluster,  while  we  whirl  away  to 
ward  those  thousand  other  scattered  firmaments,  which  now 
appear,  through  the  most  powerful  instruments  even,  like 
glittering  dust  or  shreds  of  luminous  vapor. 

But  why  pursue  this  flight  ?  We  have  often  winged 
along  this  fearful  track,  as  upon  the  ' '  wings  of  the  morn 
ing;"  we  have  often  mounted  toward  that  awful  Throne, 
where  One  sits  in  a  centre  which  knows  no  circumference. 
We  have  wheeled  close  to  those  suns  and  sun-lit  worlds, 
which  teem  with  life  and  luxuriance,  and  resound  with 
melody.  But,  in  all  this,  we  only  live  a  few  moments  in 


THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT.  233 

a  universe  of  sense,  even,  as  before  remarked,  we  daily 
live  in  a  world  of  sense.  And  are  these  objects  all  ? 
Must  we  return  from  these  heavenward  flights,  as  if  we 
had  beheld  every  kind  of  creation  ?  Granting  that  this 
world  is  a  specimen,  in  many  respects,  of  other  worlds  ; 
granting  that  those  other  worlds  are  endlessly  multiplied 
and  reach  on  forever ;  still,  has  Omnipotent  Love  and 
Wisdom  gone  forth  in  no  other  manner  than  in  building, 
adorning,  and  peopling  a  visible,  material  universe  ? 
Have  we  no  other  mysterious  volume  to  open,  after  we 
have  read  this  familiar  page — after  we  have  wandered 
even  through  the  whole  infinite  library  of  created  worlds  ? 
— a  library  of  which  every  star  is  a  gold-clasped  volume, 
the  solar  systems  its  alcoves,  its  galleries  firmaments  of 
suns,  and  its  halls  the  boundless  planetary  spaces. 

Yes,  there  is  such  a  volume,  just  as  vast,  and  still  more 
incomprehensible.  A  heavy  clasp  is  upon  it,  which  the 
iron  hand  of  Death  only  can  break.  But,  its  Almighty 
Author  has  in  many  ways,  dimly,  yet  surely,  foreshadow 
ed  to  us  its  wonderful  contents.  He  has  made  frequent 
allusions  to  that  volume  in  another, — in  his  written  Word, 
which  is  a  lamp  to  our  feet  in  this  darkling  path,  but 
across  whose  clear,  steady  beam  there  often  fiit  the  shadowy 
forms  of  a  spirit-universe.  Not  only  do  we  read  in  the 
inspired  histories  of  God's  dealings  with  men,  and  the  rise 
and  fall  of  human  monarchies  ;  notr  only  do  we  hear  the 
tramp  of  earth's  embattled  hosts,  or  the  solemn  responses 
of  covenanting  Israel ;  not  only  do  we  see  the  flashings  of 
Sinai,  or  the  scenes  of  Calvary  ;  but  all  along,  from  Gene- 


234  THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT. 

sis  to  Revelations,  we  catch  the  rustle  of  angelic  wings, 
the  faint  echo  of  a  warfare  among  principalities  and  pow 
ers  in  heavenly  places  ;  and  we  are  startled  at  the  muffled 
tread  of  the  Tempter  and  his  cohorts  of  fallen  angels — 
once  with  Christ,  we  behold  him,  "  as  lightning  fall  from 
heaven  !"  We  are  told  of  ministering  spirits,  of  legions 
of  demons,  of  re-appearing  saints,  of  swiffc  messengers  and 
flaming  heralds,  whose  number  is  "  ten  thousand  times 
ten  thousand  and  thousands  of  thousands."  So,  often,  do 
supernatural  beings  mingle  in  the  scenes  of  Holy  Record  ; 
so  often  do  we  get  glimpses  of  their  long  array  and  vanish 
ing  ranks,  that  we  may  rest  assured  that  the  unseen  ten 
ants  of  this  atmosphere  are  more  in  number  than  the  men 
who  breathe  it;  nay,  that  there  is  a  universe  of  spirit  co 
extensive  with  the  universe  of  matter. 

But  Revelation  has  not  given  us  the  only  intimations  of 
this  vast,  unknown  system  of  life  and  intelligence,  perva 
ding  the  naturalist's  earth  and  the  astronomer's  heavens. 
It  is  not  necessary  now  to  prove,  as  can  easily  be  done, 
that  it  is  possible  that  such  beings,  possessed  of  a  true  cor 
poreity,  of  a  refined  nature,  but  of  surpassing  physical 
powers,  may  exist  all  around  us,  unknown  to  mortal  ear 
or  eye.  Those  invisible,  intangible  substances  in  nature, 
whose  inconceivable  force  is  a  matter  of  daily  observation, 
are  sufficient  analogies.  There  is  something  which  sports 
with  weight  and  ponderous  bodies  as  with  a  feather  or  a 
phantom,  laughs  at  time  and  space,  and  hurls  scorn  at  the 
mightiest  mechanical  inventions  :  but  that  something  can 
not  itself  be  grasped  and  held  up  to  the  human  eye  ;  it  can- 


THE   UNIVEKSE  OF  SPIRIT.  235 

not  be  perceived  by  any  sense.  So  may  other  material 
forms  and  embodied  intelligences,  capable  of  a  velocity  of 
movement,  and  wielding  a  degree  of  power  transcending 
the  miracles  of  magnetism  and  electricity,  make  a  world  of 
lofty  action  and  enjoyment  about  us,  and  yet  remain  un- 
cognizable  to  the  human  senses. 

They  may  exist,  and  that  they  do,  it  is  only  necessary 
to  look  at  God's  creation  so  far  as  it  is  already  perceptible. 
Shall  the  all-wise  and  benevolent  Power  have  crowded  ev 
ery  drop  of  water,  every  acre  of  the  ocean,  every  ounce  of 
our  blood,  the  surface  and  every  pore  of  our  bodies,  and  all 
substances  with  a  swarming  microscopic  life,  and  shall  He 
have  left  the  boundless  air.  the  long  tracks  of  space,  the 
interminable  vistas  of  infinity,  mere  wastes  and  deserts, 
unpeopled,  unproductive,  save  where,  here  and  there,  a 
planet  is  thrown  in  like  a  solitary  oasis.  Even  the  deserts 
of  earth  are  no  wastes ;  they  are  the  palace  floors  of  the 
outlawed,  but  free  and  kingly  Arab.  No,  there  are  no 
solitudes  on  earth,  or  in  the  waters  under  the  earth,  or  in 
high  heaven.  Yonder  blue,  sunny  depths,  the  interspa 
ces  between  the  planets — those  seemingly  empty  saloons, 
lit  up  with  their  starry  chandeliers,  are  not  void,  cheer 
less,  uninhabitable  vacancies;  they  are  not  vast  Dead  Seaa 
of  space,  where  no  beauty  and  life  can  have  its  element. 

The  very  vibrations  of  that  light  which  reveals  to  us 
the  glowing  skies — those  vibrations  which  roll  their  tides 
of  effulgence  across  from  one  planetary  shore  to  another 
— evince  a  material  medium  or  fluid  suffused  through  all 
space — a  medium"  which  all  analogy  pronounces  to  be  as 


23G  THE  CXIYERSE  OF  SPIRIT. 

densely  peopled  as  the  spinning  spheres  it  buoys  up  and 
binds  together  ;  and  peopled,  too,  with  beings  of  superhuman 
intellect  and  power,  who  interest  themselves  in  the  affairs 
of  all  worlds  ;  beings  of  Christ-like  compassion  or  Satanic 
malignity,  who  wage  a  war,  the  stake  whereof  is  the  human 
soul ;  beings  who  encamp  around  about  the  sacramental 
host  of  earth,  or  whisper  blasphemy  into  the  ready  ear,  and 
lay  fearful  snares  and  stratagems  for  unguarded  feet. 

These  analogies  are  sufficient;  the  Bible  testimony  is  suffi 
cient.  It  is  enough,  too,  to  ask,  where  have  the  spirits  of 
the  departed  gone  '(  Have  those  who  timely  returned  to 
their  loyalty  to  God,  realized  none  of  the  noblest  aspirations 
of  the  human  intellect  ?  Are  they  imprisoned  in  some  so 
lar  or  lunar  Paradise,  who,  even  in  this  life,  were  permit 
ted  to  push  the  firm  outposts  of  science  far  into  infinity,  and 
who  yearned  to  behold  more  manifestations  of  the  perfec 
tions  of  their  adored  Creator  throughout  his  wide  domains  ? 
These  instincts  are  not  to  be  set  at  nought ;  they  are  anoth 
er  written  word  of  God.  The  whole  universe  may  be  the 
Christian's  heaven,  and  the  redeemed  souls  of  sixty  centu 
ries  may  now  be  reveling  in  those  illimitable  fields  of  won 
der  and  praise,  in  company  with  the  higher  orders  of  spir 
itual  being. 

But  those  are  not  our  only  instincts;  man  not  only  feels 
that  he  is  to  have  a  part  in  the  great  range  of  creation, 
which  his  God-given  power-;  have  so  far  penetrated  and  mea 
sured  ;  but  there  is  also  a  deep,  universal  persuasion  that 
an  unseen  but  real  world  exists  all  about  us.  We  may  not 
think  of  it  in  any  very  definite  form,  and  if  any  definite 


THE  UNIVERSE  OF  SPIRIT.  237 

form  is  thought  of,  it  may  be  only  a  fancy.  But  the  gen 
eral  fact  is  engraven  in  our  very  mental  constitution. 

The  images  of  supernatural  beauty  and  terror,  that  flit 
past  us  in  our  moments  of  solitary  meditation,  have  a  cause 
beyond  the  accidental  grouping  of  previous  conceptions. 
However  fanciful  their  combinations,  they  nevertheless 
point,  with  the  sure  finger  of  instinct,  both  to  a  more  terri 
ble  and  a  fairer  scene  than  this.  We  are  not  competent  to 
conceive  of  more  awful  or  glorious  possibilities  than  our 
Creator  has  already  achieved  in  reality.  The  superstitious 
wonders  and  fears  of  men  have  a  voice  ;  the  infernal  and 
the  celestial  picturings  of  the  imagination  have  a  voice. 
When  we  cast  a  shuddering  glance  behind  us  in  a  lonely, 
nightly  walk,  when  we  close  our  eyes  only  to  look  upon  a 
train  of  fearful  images,  it  is  but  a  foreshadowing  of  a  stern 
reality,  upon  which  we  are  yet  to  gaze  either  as  spectators 
or  participants. 

The  brighter  universe  of  spirit,  also,  has  its  trembling 
reflection  in  the  mirror  of  the  soul.  When  we  drink  in  a 
tide  of  gashing  song  or  instrumental  melody,  how  are  we 
wafted  away  upon  those  waves  of  sound,  as  into  a  heaven 
of  another  and  brighter  glory  than  that  of  suns,  or  moons, 
or  stars.  When  we  behold  the  gorgeous  bow  spanning  a 
vanishing  storm  ;  or  when  we  stand  upon  the  quaking  altar 
of  a  cataract,  and  watch  its  misty  incense  ascending  like 
archangelie  drapery  to  the  sky,  how  does  the  soul  struggle 
as  if  to  snap  its  chains  and  spring  forth  into  infinity ;  what 
visions  of  beauty,  power,  majesty,  surpassing  anything  we 
know  of  earth  or  planet,  break  upon  the  soul.  While  we 


238 


THE  UNIVERSE  OK  SPIRIT. 


contemplate  the  curious  forms  and  dazzling  tints  of  sunset- 
clouds,*  with  their  far-reaching  recesses  and  long  perspec 
tive  of  unearthly  grandeur,  and  trace  out  with  ravished  eye 
those  towers  of  silver,  Alps  of  amethyst,  and  seas  of  sap 
phire,  we  do  not  instinctively  reach  forward  to  that  hidden 
universe  of  purer  matter,  nobler  intellect,  grander  shapes, 
which  now,  for  a  time,  unconsciously  to  us,  is  interlocked 
with  this  initiatory  one  of  grosser  form  and  substance. 
Yes,  could  our  eyes  now  be  empowered  to  behold  the  vast 
spiritual  realm  which,  doubtless,  occupies  all  space  about 
us,  unprepared  as  our  weak  senses  are  for  the  terrific  beau 
ty  of  such  a  disclosure,  we  would  be  overwhelmed  with  the 
blinding  glory  of  so  many  seraphic  forms  pausing  or  hover 
ing  over  us,  or,  in  their  quick  transit  hither  and  thither, 
seeming  like  interlaced  threads  of  lightning — near  us, 
broad,  vivid,  and  distinct,  but  fading  into  an  even  glow  be 
yond — far  beyond  where  we  could  not  single  out  one  of 
those  wings  of  radiant  light,  which,  if  they  were  dense 
enough  to  beat  the  common  air,  would  give  forth  a  continu 
ous  peal  as  of  a  thousand  blended  Niagaras.  And  the  time 
speeds  apace,  when  the  strong  vision  of  the  disembodied 
spirit,  and  afterward,  the  strong  eye  of  the  risen  body, 
shall  behold  the  unseen  and  eternal,  as  clearly  and  vivid 
ly  as-  the  natural  eye  now  reflects,  and  the  telescopic  lens 
now  transmits,  the  seen  and  temporal.  The  universe  of 
Astronomy  then  will  be  the  dream — the  universe  of  Faith, 
the  reality. 


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